Riot and Frolic

There's a few good ways to put a competition to bed.  Here are my top 6:

1. Book the next competition.  Both as soon as possible and… as soon as possible.  Can I book my travel plans as I walk to the ladies' dressing room after awards?  YES.  [Smartphones!] Is there a comp tomorrow?  No?  Is there a comp next weekend?  YES.

2. I like to crack open my planner and start revising goals. And making new ones because I CRUSHED those previous ones. There are charts and spreadsheets and calendars and graphing paper involved. 

there are also quills involved

3. I have a stare down with my costumes.  I have a chat with them, "How dirty are you reeeeeally?"  I've hung them on my door to easier gauge the possible yuck factor and I have an existential internal monologue each time I walk by them. 

4. I have makeup withdrawal that goes one of two ways:

    A) I go cold turkey and say, "F.U. makeup" for the next week. Or two.  

    B) I gradually wean myself off the excessive bronzer and false eyelashes and fail at the whole "weaning" part.

5. Heavy drinking and video review – Ugh.

6. Return to the real world.  But keep the reasons I love to compete in my pocket.

or under my crown

I've run into a fair share of dancers who claim to practice WAY more than I do. Like, three times as many hours as I log when I'm on my A game.  And then I see them "practice".  And then I think maybe they are confused what actually constitutes practice.

Here's how to know if you are NOT practicing:

Are you talking to people?  I mean, saying hi is one thing, but The Nod and a wave is probably good enough if you're really practicing. Unless you're discussing the lack of connection in your picture line with your partner, practice involves moving your limbs, not your mouth.

Are you watching other people practice?  Besides it being weird, watching other people dance does nothing for your own practice.

Are you listening to other people's lessons?  STOP IT.  It's soooooo not okay.  It's stealing.  And creepy.  But mostly stealing.  Therefore, it is a sin. A DAMN SIN.

Are you watching YouTube videos?  They are inspiring, but they are not practice.  They are fun and inspiring.  Like Pitch Perfect.  I watched that…  I didn't learn how to sing.  Or beatbox.  No matter how many times I watched it.

Are you in the studio?  Merely being in the building is not practice.  You could be drinking the crappy studio coffee while scrolling through Facebook for two hours with your dance shoes still in your bag.  

Here's how to know if you ARE practicing: 

Are you moving your ass as perfectly as you know how?  Even if it's not that perfect, your continued attempts at faultlessness IS practice.  Improving your posture, frame, footwork, and techniques specific to one style or dance to the best of your ability/knowledge pretty much defines "practice".

Are you sweating? It's not necessary that you sweat, but it's usually a good sign that you are working.

Are you in the studio? You don't have to be.  I have done full-out rounds around my kitchen and living room.  I've also practiced my rumba walks in the grocery store.  Garages and empty office bathrooms are great practice spaces, or so I've heard. 

Here's how to know if you should stop practicing:

Have you begun demonstrating any of the "not practicing" behaviors?  You may have overstayed your motivation window.  

Are you no longer practicing for perfection, or just to log minutes?  Is that imaginary partner of yours compensating for your total lack of frame?  Are you sure that those steps you're doing are real steps at this point?  Are you listening to music that's actual dance music?  Are you using the mirrors to your advantage?  Are you wandering aimlessly, with the authority that wearing earbuds grants, around the floor?  If you answered "the second one", yes, no, no, no, maybe, you should call it a day.  

Have you been at it for over two hours?  I've never seen a couple practice for over two hours productively.  NEVER.  For a single dancer?  Give it one hour.  TOPS.

In other words, 40+ hours a week in the studio is probably not making you the best dancer you could be.  Four VERY FOCUSED hours of well-planned practice would probably do a lot more good.  And then you could watch more TV.

You're going to a group class.  It's a beginning group class, way below your level of expertise.  I mean, you've been to at least a dozen beginner classes and you've got the material nailed.

Let's, for example, just for kicks, AS A CRAZY METAPHOR, call you an "upperclassman".  

And let's, just for funzies, use a female pronoun for the teacher of this group class you are about to attend.  

Sometime last year, when you started taking group classes, you were in the same place as the incoming "frosh": a little uncoordinated, unmusical, nervous, and overwhelmed.  But now, you totally know that Rumba goes "slow quick quick" and that ladies start on their right foot and now you have confidence.  Or cockiness.  

THE LINE IS THIN, MY FRIENDS.  

No matter how advanced you are, I will tell you something most teachers are too nice to say to your face:

You are not the teacher's assistant.  

No.  Nope.  Stop it.

Unless you have been specifically asked on the same day by the teacher present to assist with class, you may not:

• elaborate on steps or techniques being taught to other participants
• elaborate on steps or techniques being taught to other participants
• elaborate on steps or techniques being taught to other participants

This explicitly means you should not answer any questions that require more than a yes or no answer and especially refrain from using dance terms (tone, center, connection, CBM, line of dance, rise and fall, etc.) when opening your mouth during class, unless these words have already been introduced. (If you have a question including one of these fancy words or some other material that's been bugging you, many teachers will happily take the time to answer them after class.)

Did you hear something that totally doesn't jive (hahahaha) with what you know, or people are doing something wrong?  Shut yer face.  

Seriously, please PLEASE don't bring it up.  There are certain things you need to learn (how to move your arse) before you get to even more awesome stuff (how to be sexy moving your arse).  Did you really want to know that American Swing timing actually is 3/4 – 1/4 – 1/1 the first time you danced it and that you were murdering the moniker of the dance by performing the side chassé the way you did, or did you just want to rock out to "Gold On The Ceiling"?  

We know you're excited.  Dancing is awesome!  You want to share that awesomeness with everyone.  But by "helping" out in class, you're inadvertently discrediting the teacher's knowledge and mastery of the subject and her ability and authority to control the class by shifting others'  focus to you.  And that is… not helpful.  

Want to know how to really help when you're attending a group class that's more elementary than the level you're striving for?

Be the most helpful student possible.

• Dance to the best of your ability, providing a strong frame and timing (yeah, this means you too, Follows).  
• Listen to whatever is being presented and apply it to your dancing.  Already have that info perfected?  Yeah?  … Really?  REALLY?  …But really?
• If your well-meaning newbie partner asks you a question, smile and nod "yes" or shake your head "no" to the simple question or…  
• Raise your hand at the appropriate time to ask the question that was directed to you.
• Help direct people when rotating partners.

The purpose of a group class is for you (and everyone else, no matter what level they claim) to practice your dancing with different partners within the confines (proficiency level, specific dance and style, particular pattern, practical techniques) of the material presented and to ask relevant questions, if the need arises.  

For the third consecutive time, I have broken out in a rash during practice.  At first, I attributed it to … I don't know… something logical.  The second time I was too stressed out about my Viennese timing to really notice.  But the third time?

YOU GUYS.

I'm allergic to practice.

Okay, let's be realistic.  

I'm not allergic to practice.

I am, however, having a slightly intense physiological reaction to it.  A RASH, YOU GUYS. 

Practice is stressful right now, I'll admit.  We have A LOT of new material that I'd like to have down in less than 10 years; the new material is way above the level we had last been dancing; I am not as strong or as flexible as I usually am (good Lord, how long does that take?!); and the fatness (from being pregnant and then not pregnant) is so distracting (again, good Lord, how long does that take?!).  

All that, added on to what has never been a calm routine for us anyway (we are not un-intense people) makes me freaking BREAK OUT IN HIVES, apparently.

And yet, I'm still going to practice.  I'm involuntarily scratching my neck after falling on the floor for the umpteenth time and rubbing my itchy arms after my posterior cramps from doing my 975th arabesque.  

I'm only assuming the rash/hives/horribleness of this era of practice will go away in a week or two.  Or I can invest in Benadryl and Cortizone.  

EITHER WAY.  

Still dancing. 

Talking to students, teaching a lot, and always taking lessons myself, there's some common problems you shouldn't feel alone in making:

Everyone has the wrong foot ready.  "Start with your left foot," we say.  "Yep," you say.  "Your other left foot," we say.  "Oh," you say.  

Everyone thinks they are doing that.  You know, that thing that your teacher is telling you to do.  We are not in the habit of announcing to you things you are already doing.  If we're saying you need to do something, it's because you're not doing it.  STOP ARGUING WITH US.

Everyone begins at a different spot each time when working on the same move.  "Let's go over the crossover," we say.  "Okay," you say, starting with a cha cha cha.  "Again," we say.  "Okay," you say, starting with a lone side step.  "Again," we say.  "Okay," you say, starting with the whole basic.  What the hell, you guys?

Everyone rotates the wrong way. "You need to rotate to your left… counter-clockwise," we say.  "Like this?" you ask.  "No, the other way," we say.  "Like this?" you ask.  "Yes, that is both left and counter-clockwise," we say.

Everyone apologizes. You didn't nail that turn you've been working on and you say you're sorry.  This one is very confusing to teachers.  If you were doing everything correctly, we'd be out of a job.  If you suddenly started taking heel leads on 3 in Waltz when you're in Gold, then you can apologize.  If you screw up something that you've been actively learning, it's to be expected. 

Everyone dances off-time.  Sometimes you don't hear that beat, or there's not much off a downbeat in the intro, or you just stopped listening.  

Everyone swears.  Not a mistake, so much as uncouth, after being asked to dance something on your own, or doing the step wrong the 10th time in a row, an f-bomb or something else vulgar is bound to slip your lips.  

You're part of the club, man.  Embrace your mistakes, then make some new ones.