January 2000 – December 2000
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December
January
I am introduced to ‘Clicks’
4 January 2000
As if working in the shoes wasn’t enough, we’re learning another new dance. This time it’s the Treble Reel and it is really, really fast!
I was amazed at how quickly I became used to the shoes, however. Despite the fact that a few of us took headers (not me) at this last practice (no injuries, thankfully) everyone seemed to be doing a splendid job in their formerly clunky footwear. The whole class did really well with the Treble Jigs, so we moved on.
As usual, I was sure I would never get it. The moves were simple, really, but were they ever fast! I could not, literally, step my way through the dance, it was so fast. I was certain I was doing it wrong but both my partner and the teacher confirmed I was doing it as it should be done, just not quickly enough.
I asked how I could possibly get up to speed: “Just keep doing it over, and over, and over, and over.” Gee, practice. What a novel concept.
Armed with the conviction that I actually wasn’t setting out to break several laws of physics, I retired to the garage and went at it. It is so great to be challenged this way. I was actually excited all day about getting back into the shoes and trying this out again. After a number of run-throughs, I got better. Marginally. But that’s what it’s all about. I’ll take another stab at it tomorrow.
As for the mid-air clicks, that’s another story. We were shown and told how to do them, but the fear of cracking a bone is very real. I haven’t hit my ankle yet, but I’ve banged the side of my foot more than once and, boy howdy, does that sting!
Still, I did my reps and ended up with about a 70% success rate, on the right foot. Left, I managed to get a near-hit, once. I guess tomorrow I do left-side drills.
Looking back, I am again reminded of how ridiculous it was to think, after my first Feis, that Irish dance had run its course for me, that I had achieved all I could with it and should move on. I have done so much, learned so much and pushed so far beyond the boundaries of what I thought I was capable of since then it’s amazing. I can’t imagine what I’d be doing now it I had quit like I proposed; I am having such a great time with this, and the journey is far from over.
Meditations in the Garage
11 January 2000
I’ve been very lucky this year. It’s been so mild that my girlfriend has not had to park her car in the garage yet, so the floor is still clean and danceable. Once snow arrives it will be covered with salt and road grit and I doubt I’m going to want to dance on that, especially with my new shoes.
As if I practice a lot, anyway. Barring any other excuse, I’ll blame the weather. Snow or no snow, it’s dreary, chilly and dark these days and I don’t feel much like doing anything except bundle up, eat comfort food and fall asleep watching TV. Most of my practice consists of running through a few steps–wherever I happen to be– while no one watching. And now with the Treble Reel and Heel Clicks, that’s getting harder to do. It was easy to do a silent “shuffle and back” while everyone was looking out the window, but jumping up in the air and attempting to click my heels together tends to draw attention, even if I’m in my office with the door closed (actually, especially when I’m in my office with the door closed).
Even so, I managed to trundle myself and my shoes out to the garage a few times last week, if just to hear the ‘clicks’ while I half-heartedly ran through the steps. My sessions rarely last more than 15 or 20 minutes.
Because of this, I find myself looking forward to practice more and more these days. I used to arrive 15 minutes early to get warmed up, but each week that number creeps higher. Last week I was nearly an hour early, but others were already there ahead of me. It is so energizing to practice with other people (not to mention bright lights, a clean, open floor and heat). We get to talk, compare notes, work on our steps and it seems we hardly get started when the ‘real’ class begins. Then it’s another hour of drills and, often, new dances. I leave each week exhausted but exhilarated and feeling like I accomplished something. Unlike working out in the garage, where I leave simply tired and cold.
We learned another new dance this past week; a Reel, a modification of the one we were taught the first week of school. A further modification was made for me, and my new shoes. I get to do a set of mid-air heel clicks at the end instead of the regular jumps. Unlike my hard shoes, which have tapered heels, my soft shoes have slight bulges on the sides of the heels to make clicking easier. That doesn’t mean I’m able to do them, it just means it should be easier.
I guess I’d better go practice some more.
Cutting you a Break
14 January 2000
I guess I jinxed myself with that last entry. It snowed, naturally. We got about six or seven inches during the day on Thursday and, after shoveling the driveway, I didn’t much feel like practicing. And after that, there was a car in the garage, dripping salt-soaked snow and abrasive sand all over the once-clean floor.
Then it got cold, and when I arrived home from work today there were still hunks of fenderburgs lying about the floor. Not very conducive to dancing. So instead, I ran through a few of the newer steps inside the house, in the hall, in my slippers. I suppose that’s better than nothing.
Lately, I’ve begun to wonder just how long it takes these pages to load.
You see, I have RoadRunner at home and a T1 connection at the office. It’s been some time since I’ve had to look at my own graphic-laden web site via a 14.4 modem. The software I use (MS FrontPage) gives an estimate of how long it should take to view these pages over a 28.8 modem but I’ve learned not to trust it. Still, that number has been climbing with each wordy entry, so I’ve decided to break them out into single doses that should load relatively quickly. (This page weighs in at 18 seconds, according to FrontPage.)
As you can see, I’ve been putting more thought and effort into this web page than I have into practicing lately. I’m still suffering from seasonal lethargy as well as lack of adequate space (that new Slip Jig requires a LOT of room). Fortunately, we have no class this week so I’m enjoying a brief reprieve and can afford to relax for the next day or so. I’ll get back to some serious practicing next week, even if I have to sweep the garage out every afternoon.
Honest.
I realize a horrible truth
16 January 2000
Things are looking up, practice-wise. I got new slippers for my birthday (that’s right, I’m 45 now, but at every Fies, for the rest of this year, I’ll still be 44–another advantage of Irish Dance). They’re nice and snug and don’t have a tendency to fall off during my ‘at home and can’t wear the shoes’ practice sessions. They also have a thick sole with a sneaker-like tread that makes a satisfying ‘zzzzzip’ when I manage to get my heels together. This is a great advantage. Now I can put in some meaningful ‘click’ practice, inside, to music, and without the danger of cracking my shins too hard. Maybe this will be a good year, after all.
Something occurred to me the other day while I was reading the most recent flier from my school. I’m supposed to try on my dress and request any alterations within the next few weeks. I got a bit of a chuckle out of that, and was thinking that the other boys probably got the same when it occurred to me there were not a lot of boys in the school.
Last year, I was one of about three men (off and on) in the adult class and there was a scattering of boys in the younger classes. This year, I’m the only guy in the adult class and–although I could be wrong here–the only boys in the school are Kyle, Declan and the dancer formerly known as Boris (I’ve been told his real name several times, but I keep forgetting to make a note of it).
To make matters worse, Kyle and Declan are both champions and TDFKA Boris, while not a champion, is quite possibly the cutest kid on the North American continent–and cuteness of that magnitude carries a lot of weight at recitals.
This means, of course, that I have a responsibility to uphold the honor of my gender. Since I have left competitive-level cuteness behind many, many years ago, I’m stuck with having to defend the masculine honor by dancing well. (The last time I played the cuteness card with any amount of success was, at the age of five, when I walked on stage at my Sunday School play, announced “I don’t wanna play a raindrop!” and walked off to the laughter and applause of the house and the deep, deep chagrin of my parents.)
So, with the cuteness option blocked, the only road I see open (assuming, of course, I decide to rise to the challenge) is practice, practice, practice, become a better dancer, then practice, practice, practice some more. It’s not the easiest route, by any means, but I think it’s the one Kyle and Declan used, not to mention the many female champions from our school–Ainsely, Diedra, Kendall, Erin, Andrea, Caitlyn, Amanda, Karen and (certainly) Jennifer, to name just a few. No, becoming the standard-bearer for my gender in the adult category is not going to be easy.
Maybe I can bribe somebody.
‘Clicks’ — my Waterloo?
22 January 2000
I remember the first time I saw a ‘click.’ I was at my first Feis, watching one of those amazing seniors doing her routine. When she did a scissors kick, I heard a loud ‘clack’ and realized, with no small amount of amazement, that she had clicked her heels together in mid-air. Then she did it again. And again. Once more, I marveled at the skill of these young dancers and wondered how anyone could every learn to do such astounding steps.
Now they expect me to do it.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a challenge. It’s one of the reasons I’m doing this. I’ve been baffled by kicks, frustrated by the ‘shuffle and back’ and stymied by rocks, but in each case perseverance, practice and a few weeks of sore muscles and bone paid off. I can now shuffle and kick and rock fairly well. But these clicks! Oy vey!
It never looked easy, and when I first saw the move, I could not imagine myself mastering it. I still can’t. The worst thing about this particular step is, I seem to get worse the more I practice it.
When I started practicing this morning, I ran through my usual set of ten–right and left. I did six clicks on the right and, incredibly, three on the left. During my routines, however, I never made the connections. At all. So, I would stop, do another ten, get a few hits, try it in the routine again and miss. Toward the end of my practice, I did another set of ten and got zero for ten on both right and left. Not a good way to end off, so I did another set. I should have quit while I was ahead.
Just to torment myself some more, I put the shoes on my hands so I could see how they had to be held to actually get the heels to hit. I did a set of ten this way, also, swinging my arms with these comical-looking gloves on my hands. I managed to hit the heels together only about three times (though I did crack myself in the wrist once).
I’m getting the impression this isn’t going to be easy.
Which doesn’t mean I’m giving up on them, it just means I’m frustrated. I suppose I ought to look on this as just another in a series of challenges. Granted, it’s the largest one I have been faced with thus far, but if I can overcome this one, I’ll feel like I’ve really gotten somewhere. But then I have to wonder, if I do master this, what will the next challenge be like?
Just remember: That which does not kill me simply puts off the inevitable.
Necessity is a Mother
26 January 2000
I missed class this past week. First time, I think. I didn’t want to, but I think my friends expected me to show up at my own birthday party. It’s been a while now since I’ve been to class, or practiced, and it’s showing.
Snow came with a vengeance this week. About a foot over a two-day period. Now the garage is tracked with slush and grit and road salt–not a pretty sight, and nothing I want to dance on. So, what I did was rummage around until I found an old sheet of Masonite. It’s small, and not altogether sturdy, but it covers the floor and allows me to dance in the house, undetected.
I put it down in the hall, strapped on the hard shoes and went to town. I found I was missing my ‘shuffles,’ skipping beats, making awkward scissors kicks–and forget about the ‘clicks.’ It was, I assumed, due to my having to concentrate on remaining in that confined area, so I trudged out to the garage and, on the dirty, cluttered concrete, ran through my favorite Treble Jig. I still sucked. That made me feel better–it was simply lack of practice, not the dance board, making me screw up.
Now all I need is a bigger board; something a little heavier, something a little harder, something that will sound really, really LOUD when I dance in my hard shoes. Something the neighbors will appreciate, in other words.
And so, even though this was not the most stellar practice session I have ever put in, I did make some progress in my ‘quality of life’ arena. I’m one trip to Builder’s Square away from being able to practice in the house, and to music, once again.
The ‘Click’ Report: Let’s not go there.
February
Practice — the Unexplored Country
5 February 2000
Practice. No one understands the benefits of practice better than I do. The many different activities I have engaged in all required practice, not one of them came, full blown, into my repertoire of talents. An acquaintance, who dances with the NYC Ballet, tells me he practices six hours a day in preparation for shows and three to four hours a day two to three times a week in between shows just to stay in shape.
As usual, I went home from class on Monday feeling ready to put some meaningful practice in during the week, but here it is, Saturday morning already, and I have yet to even look at my shoes much less put them on and attempt to work the rust out of a few of my steps.
Where does the time go? When I was a kid, there seemed to be no end to the day. Now, I barely get out of bed and it’s already time for dinner. I keep reminding myself that I have the same number of hours in the day as Benjamin Franklin did and he seemed to manage his hobbies pretty well. Maybe our modern life is simply too full of ‘time saving’ gadgets (he says, while typing on a laptop, with a second laptop to the left of it, a cellphone to the right and a desktop PC humming in the background). Our gadgets were invented to save us time (excuse me while I take a sip of Instant Coffee and a bite of Microwaved Muffin) and give us more hours of leisure to pursue worthy interests. But maybe, for some of us, the gadgets themselves become distractions, robbing us of the time they were supposed to save (Oh, hey, look at the time! There’s a really cool show on Animal Planet I’ve just gotta watch. I could tape it, but the VCR is already recording Babylon 5.)
OK, I’m back. Now where was I? Oh yes, gadgets as distractions; do you think that’s possible? Maybe we should experiment. Who wants to give up their microwave for a month? You can report back in March and let us know how much time you saved. We’ll all really appreciate it.
Don’t look at me, though, I can’t afford to save that much time. I’ve got to update these web pages, catch up on my e-mail and read my newsgroups. Without a microwave, I wouldn’t have time to heat up my lunch before watching the re-runs of Babylon 5 prior to visiting the ATM so I can go shopping.
(And what’s this? An e-mail from a friend; “Let’s get together for coffee and cigars this afternoon.” I’m there! I guess I can put off shopping until tomorrow.)
Wow, almost noon already! And I still haven’t practiced! Where does the time go?
Losing My Edge
18 February 2000
This, one would think, should be the time of year I have the most opportunity to practice. After all, I’m stuck inside most of the time, bored out of my skull, so what’s stopping me from practicing?
Oh, little things like snowstorms, family obligations, car problems, household chores, etc., etc. I can’t even claim to have been wasting time on the PC this past week.
I can feel the rust building up. I feel as if I’m losing my edge (what little edge I had) and the only thing that is going to get it back is a lot of practice. But how? And when? And where?
On top of that, I’m about to lose my ‘newbie’ status. In another week or two I will have been at this for a full year, and I won’t be able to hide behind my “Oh, I just started, that’s why I’m not very good,” routine. With a whole year of instruction under my belt, I ought to be better than I am.
On the other hand, polished dancer or not, I’m still having fun and still look forward to class as much, or more, as when I first began last March. Perhaps my angst stems from the loss of my blissful ignorance; last year, I wasn’t aware of The Recital, and I didn’t know what a Feis was, whereas now I know what’s coming.
Board of the Dance
24 February 2000
Yup, I finally got out to the local Home Depot and christened my brand new car by cramming a big piece of half-inch chip-board in the back. The damage was minimal, and I managed to bring home a 4 x 4.5 foot slab to dance on.
It works fairly well on all counts: it’s easily stored (just lean it up against the garage wall), small enough to fit on the living room floor and big enough so that I don’t feel really cramped while dancing on it. Since I lay it down on the carpet, it’s nice and springy, too, which beats concrete by a long shot.
The sound is sort of scratchy and not nearly as gratifying as the sharp ‘clack’ of tile or hard wood but, again, it accomplishes its purpose–keeping me from marring up the new floor which, ultimately, keeps me from having to find a new place to live.
Now if I can just get back into a more rigorous practice routine. The weeks still fly by with, seemingly, something going on every night that keeps me from practice. This week is nearly over and I’m leaving for Buffalo Saturday morning; if I don’t get a quick practice session in tomorrow while I’m packing, I’ll be showing up at class on Monday (after two weeks off) without having improved at all.
I did manage to get one session in, just to try out the new board. I ran through all of this season’s dances, twice each, which helped implant the newer ones in my mind and kept the more familiar ones from getting rusty. Still, I need to step up my practice time if I’m going to be anything more than adequate.
I hate being adequate.
As for clicks: I still have not mastered them, but at least I haven’t given up. I got quite a boost during our last pre-class warm up when I asked a fellow student about them. My mistake, it seems, was in concentrating on getting my heels together and ignoring style, figuring I’d fit that in once I introduced my heels to one another. What my classmate told me was to focus on pointing my feet and turning them out like you’re supposed to. I found doing that makes getting a nice ‘click’ a lot easier (and less painful). Now that I know the trick, I just have to practice it
March
Motivation
5 March 2000
Still struggling through the ‘Great Lethargy of Winter.’ I hate this time of year; I just get so sick of the cold and dark that no matter what I do I always end up feeling tired and depressed. The good news is, this is the time of year it usually breaks. In fact, it was just one year ago yesterday that my mood lifted, and I began taking Irish Step Dance lessons.
And look where I am now.
I’ve been trying to get back into the practice routine I accidentally devised last year, which was borne of necessity and lack of stamina. Back then, instead of trying to carve out great hunks of time so I could do some serious practicing, only to find I didn’t have the time or the energy, I would simply come home from work and run through each of my dances. Mostly I would do them just once, but if a particular step was giving me a problem, I would do it maybe once or twice more. It wasn’t much, but it sure beat planning to practice, then not doing it at all. After a few weeks of doing this consistently, I found I was actually improving. Just a tiny bit every day, but it began to add up.
I’m hoping this method still works. I can’t seem to get a full forty-five minutes together to save my life. And if I did, I doubt I could actually last that long.
The best practice session of all is still the time right before class, when we all get together for an impromptu practice. This lasts anywhere from half an hour to forty-five minutes, then we go dance for a full hour. And when I’m done, I still have energy. At home, I’m wasted after ten minutes.
I’m looking forward to Feis season, and The Recital. This has given me new incentive to practice, so I’m finding it easier to at least set aside the few minutes it takes to run through all my dances. Occasionally I’ll even drag The Board inside so I can work out in my hard shoes.
We’re still learning new things (like the ‘Shuffle and Up’) and I’m still struggling to master them. I’m working on my ‘clicks’ and making slow, slow progress, but my ‘shuffle and up’ steps are presenting me with a different challenge. Last week in class, we were practicing one of the dances and I went to do a ‘shuffle and up’ when I should have been doing a ‘shuffle and back.’ I attempted to make a mid-step correction and ended up kicking myself in the leg just below my knee with the heel of my hard shoe. What a special feeling that was! I didn’t realize I had drawn blood until I got home.
Hopefully I’ll have those steps down solid before I have to do any performing.
Well, that settles that . . .
8 March 2000
Dance class is such an inspiration! This past week, I got there really early and, within about 15 minutes, we had a full class in the spare room running through our routines.
We drilled and danced and traded tips and danced some more. Then it was time for the regular class and, for the next hour, we worked and worked on a new Hornpipe. (As I recall, it went something like, jump up, land with your left foot on top of your right toe, shuffle and kick yourself in the shin . . .)
We put in, all told, about two solid hours of dancing, and I could have done more. I began to wonder if practicing at home was harder due to the lack of ‘classroom energy’ or the fact that dancing on the rug is more tiring than dancing on a tile floor (in the same way that running on sand is harder than running on asphalt).
So today I swept out the garage, taped up my shoes and went back to practicing in the garage. Within ten minutes I was not only tired out, but bored out of my skull.
In addition to that, the duct tape began to unravel, causing my shuffles to sound sort of muffled and wimpy. I ran through all my dances, however, and worked on a few of the troublesome steps, but I now know, once and for all, that dancing in a group beats dancing by oneself. By a long shot.
Another disturbing thing I noticed was an inability to duplicate moves I was able to do in class.
My ‘clicks’ still leave a lot to be desired, and this new dance we learned has two front clicks and a back click. My reaction to that was, “Oh, sure, I’ll never be able to do that!” To my surprise, I found it, not only simple, but nearly unavoidable. I couldn’t do the ‘switch’ maneuver our teacher showed us without clicking my heels in the air behind me. I was elated.
Today, however, I couldn’t do it at all. I worked on that move over and over and the only time I was able to make contact was when I kicked myself in the leg. After walking that one off, I tried a front click (which I had also done successfully during class) and found I wasn’t even close. That’s when I gave up and went in to have a beer.
So tomorrow I’ll re-tape my shoes and run through each of my dances again. But I won’t expect much in the way of ‘clicks.’
Reflections on Motivation
25 March 2000
In thinking about my dancing, I am reminded of a scene from a Kevin Costner movie–the pre-Water World/Postman Costner, before he started taking himself so seriously and became an embarrassment instead of an entertainer. It was in The Untouchables where Sean Connery, as patrolman Tom Malone, asks Kevin Costner, playing G-Man Elliot Ness, how far he is willing to go to achieve his goals.
“You have to ask yourself,” Connery/Malone says to Costner/Ness at the beginning of the film, “How far am I willing to go, what am I willing to do?”
Later, as Costner/Ness finds Connery/Malone dying from a mob ambush, Connery/Malone reaches up a bloody hand, grasps Costner/Ness by the lapel, pulls him close and whispers in his last, raspy, gasping, Scottish-accented breath: “Ask yourself . . .what am I willing to do . . . how far . . . am I willing . . . to go . . .”
Or something like that.
Costner/Ness’ objective was, obviously, to arrest Al Capone, which involved standing up to armed men with anger-management issues. My objective–become a better dancer–is a little more pedestrian by comparison. Still, the questions remain the same:
“What am I willing to do; how far am I willing to go?”
In any endeavor such as this, there is a certain amount of sacrifice, time that needs to be diverted away from other fun stuff and into the activity. All other things being equal (i.e. the ability to actually dance) it is generally a given that the degree of sacrifice is in direct proportion to how proficient one becomes.
The extremes here are the professional dancers, who spend umpteen hours a week practicing, performing, exercising and learning. Their reward is a paycheck. On the other end of the spectrum is, well, me, who spends an hour or two during the week shuffling around on the living room rug and another hour trying to keep up with the rest of the class at practice. My reward is a feeling of accomplishment, which assumes, of course, that I am accomplishing something.
Somewhere between a Rockette and where I am now lies a sacrifice/reward ratio that I think I might be more comfortable with. I really do want to be a better dancer, and I think I could be if only I could get my act together. What I need to do is, seriously, ask myself, “What am I willing to do; how far am I willing to go?”
My nemesis is simply sloth, not an underworld gang, so it should be easily overcome.
On the other hand, nothing boosts your motivation quite the same as being pursued by men with guns.
April
Kickin’ but not Clickin’
08 April 2000
Since I know you’ve been wondering: No, after all this time and practice I have still not mastered the art of the click. Unlike my shuffles, I did not just start doing them naturally after a while. I am still not even close.
At class (where, for some odd reason, I seem to dance better) I can sometimes do them, but it requires a great deal of concentration. “Turn you heels, point your feet, jump and kick, bring your heels together.” “Whoosh!” And sometimes, “Click!” And often, “Thump!” as I whack my heel into my shin.
Even when I do manage this feat, I realize it was only because I was able to fully concentrate on the move. It reminds me of golf, where I could get a solid stroke only when I concentrated on keeping my eye on the ball and not lifting my head at the last second. When I was able to accomplish that, I never failed to hit the ball straight and true.
But I sucked at golf (anyone looking to buy a used set of clubs?)
So, I seriously wonder about my clicks, especially when almost everyone else in class is able to do them. Even the newest member of our class, who just got his shoes last week, is kicking and clicking all over the place.
I keep saying I need to get the hard shoes with the ‘bubble’ on the side, but the fact is my reel shoes have the bubble and I can’t click in them, either. Maybe I should just practice clicking in my reel shoes, and when and if I master clicking in them, I can buy the bubble-heeled hard shoes.
We’ll see. Until then I foresee a lot of shin bruises in my future.
May
Getting down to It
18 May 2000
Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve written. That’s OK, I haven’t been practicing, either. I’m a slug.
That is going to have to change very quickly. Our Recital is just one month away, and after that it’s Feis Season. The up side to that is, now I only have a limited number of dances I need to practice–the rest can be put on the back burner for now.
What little practice I have been doing lately has always involved steps we won’t be performing and dances that aren’t offered for adult competition at any Feisanna I’m planning to attend, so I guess I can hold off on those and polish up the relevant ones.
Room is definitely a consideration these days. There is simply no place in this house, including the garage, large enough to adequately practice my steps without running into a wall. Come to think of it, I tend to run into the walls at class, too. Maybe I just need more room than is available anywhere.
I’m still waiting for my energy level to pick up. I thought my lethargy would lift with the warm weather, but I’m still as sluggish as ever. The only time I feel ‘up’ is at dance class, then I laze around for the next few days thinking that I ought to practice. Then the weekend arrives and it’s too late. But energy or no, I’ve got to start working harder; the last thing I want to do is flub up on stage. Fear is a powerful motivator.
June
Change of Venue
5 June 2000
Let’s see, six entries for January, three for February, three for March, one for April and one for May. Lack of enthusiasm? Loss of interest? Or just really nothing of interest to say?
It’s been option #3, pretty much. Class is never any less exhilarating or frustrating or exciting or educational, but it is, or at least has been, pretty much the same every week. Right now we are gearing up for the Recital and I have been too busy with other activities to either practice like I should or update these pages.
Both of those things are about to change.
First off, we’ve got one more class and an extra practice session before the Recital. That alone will give me enough angst to produce at least three more entries. And secondly, my other interests are winding down now so I can devote myself full-time to practice.
The only reason I am not panicked right now is that I know I really only have to get two dances polished up–the Hornpipe trilogy and the three-hand reel with bonus rounds–for the Recital and I’ve got twelve whole days to do it. (Okay, so maybe I’m a little panicked.)
For our last two classes, we’re finally at our new venue–the Schenectady AOH Hall, which has been under construction for months. Originally, we were supposed to move there last December but, thankfully, we didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very nice place, but there are two very important differences: 1) there doesn’t appear to be any additional practice rooms, like at the school, and 2) they have a bar. I managed to have only one pint before class, and given that and the fact I haven’t practiced in a while, I did surprisingly well.
I think next week, I’ll stop by a little early with a nice cigar. Nothing like a pint and fine Bolivar to relieve stress. After that, I believe, we will be off for a bit, then doing Feis practice.
It’s bound to be an interesting couple of weeks, with lots to write about.
Confidence or Complacency
14 June 2000 8:17 A.M.
Tonight is our final practice before the Recital, and it’s not a practice, really, so much as it is a dry run. We’re not going tonight to get better, just figure out our positions.
Still, with only a few days to go and no real practice time ahead I find I am not the least bit concerned.
And this concerns me.
Is this insouciance a result of being ultra-prepared and polished? I don’t think so. Am I assured of getting all my steps 100% correct? No, not really. In my view, I think I should be sweating just a little more over this. I am not ready, I am in no way sure of myself and, in light of that, I ought to be nervous. Anxiety keeps you sharp, gives you an edge, and makes things interesting.
I’m reminded of my last stand-up performance: after two years of semi-weekly, amateur bits on stages small and large, I was waiting back stage, listening for my introduction, when I noticed I was not, in the least, nervous. When it was time, I went out on stage, faced the audience and did a flawless routine. I got the usual amount of laughs—it wasn’t the best show I ever did, but it was good. I accepted the applause, walked off stage and never went back.
I felt it was getting too easy.
There needs to be some excitement, some uncertainty, something to keep you driving forward. Feeling like I’m as good as I’m likely to get is only going to encourage me to give something up.
And, frankly, I’d rather keep dancing.
Okay, Now I’m Nervous
14 June 2000 9:17 P.M.
Just got back from Recital practice.
A quick run through (and for us adults, two quick run-throughs) and now there’s nothing left between us and The Performance except about 64 hours.
It’s probably a good thing that I screwed up the Hornpipe and did so badly in my solo Reel I had to just stop and step back in line. Now I’ve got that edge I felt I was missing; the anxiety has surfaced and the performance has gained my full attention. I may feel many emotions when I step out onto that stage on Saturday, but complacent won’t be one of them.
In addition to that, I got to see the Senior class dance again and, once again, it was inspiring as well as frustrating. I know I can never be that good, but I can be better. How much better? Well, somewhere between ‘screwing up my Hornpipes’ and’ whatever it is the Seniors are doing’ lies my potential. Feis season is approaching and, after that, a new year with new dance steps to learn (I hope).
I guess the journey is continuing after all, I must have simply been going through a flat spot.
The Recital Report
18 June 2000
The Recital began at 2 PM but the dancers were told to arrive by noon for the school photo. My motto being, “If I’m not early, I’m not coming” I arrived with plenty of time to mill about taking photos. Some of the other adult dancers were already there, in various stages of anxiety, and I told them, quite honestly, that I wasn’t the least bit nervous. Last year I had been, but this year it all just seemed like business as usual; I wasn’t concerned at all.
After the Group Photo, we went downstairs to practice our Hornpipe trilogy.
Now, let me insert an aside here: in programming, bugs (Read: mistakes) come in three sizes. There are simple, hardly noticeable bugs, bugs that are annoying but can be worked around and ‘Show Stoppers.’ This can easily be related to dancing: simple missteps that no one but the dancer notices, missteps that might take you off beat for a bar or two but allow you to catch up, and ‘Show Stoppers.’ In the programmer world, ‘Show Stoppers’ means your computer crashes, in dancing, it has a more literal connotation.
And so, as a group, we ran through the Hornpipes twice. Each time I pulled a ‘Show Stopper.’ Still, I wasn’t worried; dancing is largely a matter of concentration, and I know I tend to concentrate a lot harder when 500 people are watching me. Not at all confident that we were ready, we went upstairs to wait.
About fifteen minutes before we were to go on, one of the senior dancers came up to me and asked if I had every been one of the ‘Dancers of the Month.’ I told her I had, indeed, been a Dancer of the Month, but that it had been more for my doing the web page than for my dancing. She wasn’t interested in that. “We’re doing a Stars of the Month Dance,” she explained, “we’ll each be doing a Solo Reel. Follow me out, I’m going last, you’re next to the last.”
That got my attention.
I wanted to do something different from the two Reels I was doing in the Three-Hand, but really didn’t have anything ready. It probably would have been easier for me to go out on stage and write some HTML code off the top of my head but figured I could pull something together before I went on. I decided not to worry about it and concentrated on getting through the Hornpipes first.
In short, we did well. Personally, it was about the only time I went through the whole routine without making any mistakes; as I said, 500 people staring at me tends to encourage me to pay attention. There was enormous relief after that; even those of us who were very nervous about the Hornpipes were not so concerned about the Three-Hand. We pretty much had that down cold.
As for my solo, I spent the rest of the first half taking photos of the show, then was having such a good time during intermission chatting with everyone I never went downstairs to practice. After intermission, I was having such a good time taking more photos I never went downstairs to practice. I ended up doing one of my Reels from the Three-Hand. At least I was comfortable with the steps, if not the actual “Stars on Parade” Dance, or whatever it was. It was thrust on my so quickly I was still getting instructions as we were walking across the stage. “Step out when the other dancer is half through,” my companion whispered as we took our places, “start as soon as she finishes . . .”
Nothing like being prepared.
I did okay, I even started at the right time, and I don’t recall screwing up (though I am waiting for the video ‘instant replay’ before I make that call).
We walked off to the left and I had to run around backstage to go back on. I inserted myself in line and went out for the Three Hand. As expected, we handled that without too much difficulty. I understand there were a few bumps along the way, but no ‘Show Stoppers.’ What was surprising was how much more strenuous it was doing it in front of an audience. After the Reel, we danced into a straight line to start our solos (well, three solos at a time, but you get the idea). I was so winded I was thankful to be at the far end, in the group that danced last. The dancers at the head of the line had to step out without a break. I don’t know where they found the strength.
Overall, I had a blast and came away, as usual, determined to do better. All the kids danced well and the Seniors were a marvel to watch.
We get a week off (actually, I think our teachers get a week off–they certainly earned it) and then it’s time for Feis practice.
I’m already looking forward to it.
Back in the Saddle
25 June 2000
I dreamed of dancing last night.
It was a long, complex and vivid dream, the kind where, if I ran into you at the office, I might try to explain all the nuances and sub-plots to you and you would stand there, nodding your head, going, “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” all the while thinking, “Why doesn’t this idiot just shut up and let me get back to my cubicle.”
Don’t you hate people who tell you their dreams?
Fortunately for you, I am now on my second cup of coffee and all that remains of the dream is mostly feelings and impressions; namely the camaraderie that goes along with dancing and the level of commitment needed to be any good at it. (There was also a waterfall in there somewhere, and our classes were taught using an overhead projector and I lost my shoes–my street shoes, not my dance shoes–I was wearing my hard shoes and I was finding it difficult to walk downstairs in them because they were so slippery . . . All together now: “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”)
The dream doesn’t surprise me; both of those themes have been on my mind a lot lately. My life tends to become cluttered with activities from time to time, making it necessary to sort through it and discard some items and rearrange others. In this current bout of spring-cleaning, I am attempting to find more time to devote to dance. Dancing has been getting short shifted lately, and it shows.
Getting through The Recital wasn’t hard–I only had two dances to practice–but with feiseanna fast approaching, I have an urgent need to polish up all my other steps and, having seen the seniors dance at The Recital, I now have a list of new steps and dances I want to learn as well. That’s going to require more time than I currently have.
Fortunately, it wasn’t hard for me to spot the big timewasters in my life, so I should be free to apply these newfound minutes to dance practice. The two feiseanna I’m planning to attend this summer ought to keep my motivation level up.
As for the camaraderie theme: I think camaraderie, like the need to practice, is inherent in any activity such as this, but that doesn’t make it any less appealing. It’s that, “we’re all in this together” feeling which, although present throughout the year, really comes out during events like The Recital or the Feis.
These are parts of my life I am not quite ready to let the weeds of neglect grow over, so with a little judicious pruning–setting aside some things, abandoning others and, of course, taking on new challenges as well–and an eye toward increasing my practice time, I may yet have a shot at becoming the dancer I know I can be.
July
My, That Was Quick
1 July 2000
I finished up The Recital thinking (and I’m sure I wasn’t alone) we’d enjoy a bit of a hiatus, then begin Feis practice in earnest. At class last Monday, however, we suddenly realized that, with the holiday weekend, there would be only one more practice session prior to the Feis, which is now only two weeks away.
In addition to not being ready, I find I have been entered into two other dances (the Three-Hand and the Slip Jig) for a total of five competitions. The only dance I’m currently confident of is my Reel. I have my Jig (actually, a Treble Jig) down fairly solid, but I don’t often get the opportunity to practice with my shoes on. It’s the same for the Hornpipe, except I’m not as confident of that one.
Actually, despite the short notice, I’m glad I was conscripted into the other dances. I wanted to do a figure dance but couldn’t muster up any partners. Now I’m going to get to do one, although we’re still a dancer short. As for the Slip Jig, I swore I wouldn’t compete again after last year and the “You can’t be here, this is a girls dance” snafu (incidentally, I took 1st place in that particular competition). So this year, if anyone objects, I can say I was signed up against my will, or something like that. Then I’ll kick some serious butt.
Or not. This season I’m competing in the ‘Advanced Adult’ group, so the competition is bound to be a bit more stiff than it was last season. I watched the advanced group dance last year and they were quite impressive. Guess I’d better do some serious practicing over the next 14 days.
Getting Serious
5 July 2000
Thanks to the upcoming Feis, I’m becoming more conscientious about working on my dancing.
I think my Reel is working out nicely. I don’t think I need to polish it much, just keep it from deteriorating, which means running through it once or twice every day. The Slip Jig is coming together all right, but I am hemmed in by space requirements; I can’t really do the whole dance to my satisfaction. The Treble Jig and Hornpipe both have the shoe (or lack thereof) problem, so I’m not really confident of them yet, either. And the Three-Hand, well, we don’t even have our third hand yet, do we?
Typical. I’m sure it will all come together in the end. Besides, the point is to have fun, right?
Reality Sets In
6 July 2000
My practice session today was quite an eye-opener.
This time, I put music on, wore my shoes and danced within the limitations of the living room as aggressively I could. The Three-Hand Reel was quite interesting that way, but I did manage to run through the whole thing, non-stop, several times in a row. Never completely right, however. That Reel was one of the dances I was most confident of, and now I see I’m not doing as well as I thought. This could inspire me to practice more or really ruin my day.
I ran through my other dances with similar results.
It did feel good just to be practicing so hard, however, and I got a solid twenty minutes in before I tripped over the dog and landed with my right heel on my left foot. That earned the dog a few endearing names and encouraged me to call it a day.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I promise.
The Problem With Practice
9 July 2000
“Practice the way you are going to perform.” That’s what I was taught and that’s what I always try to strive for when gearing up for a performance. Unfortunately, my living room is too small.
I have managed to polish up the Three-Hand and my Slip Jig, but the configuration I’m forced to practice in resembles a big ‘L’. I’m not sure how the judges will take it if I only dance forward (between the divan and the kitchen wall) and to my right (between the coffee table and the entertainment center). Tomorrow night, I’m guessing, will be my last opportunity to practice in an area where I can dance properly. And the Feis is less than a week away.
I did make a major breakthrough this week in my Treble Jig, however. it took a year and a half, but I am finally able to locate the proper beat to start on. I have not been so fortunate in the Hornpipe, however. This, from someone about to compete in the ‘Advanced’ category.
This should be interesting.
Crunch Time
11 July 2000
Last night was our last formal practice before the Feis. I just finished my practice for today, tomorrow I’m out of town, Thursday is looking sorta busy and Friday is, well, Friday–there might be beer involved.
Time to triage my dances.
You know, put the ones that are fine aside, work on the ones that you might be able to make something out of and let the others die.
I like that image, but in truth I’m only having minor problems with a few of my dances. The key, for me, is to not let them slip over the next few days, as I’m not going to have a great deal of time to practice. I’m not likely to get much better by Saturday–I just hope I can keep from getting any worse.
DOH!
14 July 2000
I finally figured out why I had such a difficult time trying to keep time in my Slip Jig–it’s got nine sets of five-beat measures (?) in it, not eight. Come to think of it, I probably read that somewhere before but never really thought about it. Today, while practicing, I made a point of listening carefully to the beats. Usually I just wait for the teacher or the judge to nod, or start when the person next to me starts. Can you believe how musically-impaired I am?
Got my Feis panic under control, for now. I actually left work early so I could come home and get some extra practice in. It’s so hot, I was dancing in the living room with just a pair of shorts on . . . whoa! Ladies! No crowding, form a line . . .
I worked on each separate dance until I was satisfied with it; some took longer than others. My hardshoe dances are a lost cause. I’m terrible at the Hornpipe and, although I like the Treble Jig, I developed a mental block just now where I couldn’t do the ending. It’s happened before and it usually goes away in a few days–except I don’t have a few days. And it’s quite comical to see; I’m shuffle, shuffle, shuffling a long, then I about trip over my feet trying to do a simple shuffle back, shuffle toe, shuffle toe, shuffle back. It only affected the left side, so I kept running through it and through, trying to work out the mental block, until I found I couldn’t do it with my right foot leading, either. Then I just kept doing the whole dance over and over until, by sheer luck, I finally got it right. Then I quit.
My Reels are coming together nicely and I THINK my Slip Jig is okay, as well as I’m able to do it. (Do you think the judges will let me put a coffee table and couch on the platform while I dance?)
I did the Slip Jig and both my Reels several times at various speeds so I’d be ready no matter how they played it, then I went out to the patio for a cigar–there is such a thing as being too prepared.
Another item of concern: it looks as if tomorrow is not going to be the perfect summer day. Right now, it’s getting ready to storm and more rain is predicted for tomorrow. Last year, the Feis was outside; what do they do if it rains? Are they like wimpy baseball players who run into the dugouts when it rains, or like the stalwart football players who continue the game under any circumstances? Personally, I like the idea of dancing in a rainstorm. I put up with so many obstacles here I think I could do it without it effecting my performance much, which might give me an edge. I’d be a good ‘mudder.’
Whatever happens, I plan on having fun. Now that I know what a feis involves and how it runs, I’ll be able to relax (a little) and just get into the competition and camaraderie. Also, I’ll be off my self-imposed beer-fast (I was trying to lighten up a little for the competitions; I lost eight pounds in one week–the women in my office were sooooo jealous) so I’ll be able to celebrate a little. I don’t think I could be any more prepared or looking forward to this event any more than I am right now.
Reports and photos to follow.
Cancelled
15 July 2000
The Feis was cancelled.
What a bitter disappointment for the dancers, the parents, the vendors, the organizers . . . I think just about everyone was unhappy about this. Some more than others, naturally. Take me, for instance; I spent the morning tinkering with my website and, when the time drew near, changed my clothes and drove 20 minutes. Then, when I found out the Feis was cancelled, I went out for a cigar and beer. Not a hugely disappointing day by anyone’s standards.
But for the others, the people who worked so hard, planning, building, practicing, and the people who had to travel from all over to get here; the time, the effort, the expense on everyone’s part–what a terrible letdown. And there wasn’t a whole lot anyone could do about it, either. The weather was decent all week and, up until last night, the forecast for today was “nice, but a chance of showers.” By then it was moot anyway, the stages had all been built, everything had been set up and, due to some miscommunications, the school had doubled-booked other events which took up the insides of the buildings.
Despite a violent thunderstorm during the night, today’s dawn held great promise. It was cloudy but nice and looked like it might get nicer. I assume the Feis actually began before the rain did. At first there were a few sprinkles, then a light drizzle, then a strong, steady downpour.
Despite my jesting about dancing through any sort of weather, you really can’t expect people to dance in the rain, so the Feis was called off. I can only imagine how agonizing that decision was.
I suppose I could be disappoint or even angry about it, but something happened on the drive that made me think: I was tooling along on the Interstate–in the passing lane, in the rain–when quite suddenly and inexplicably I saw headlights in front of me coming my way. I barely had time to swerve into the center lane to avoid the oncoming car. It wasn’t until I was safe that my stomach began to knot up as my brain mulled over the obvious questions:* What if someone had been in the center lane? What if I had been fiddling with the radio or simply unable to react fast enough? Most likely, I’d be dead now, or at the very least my life would be fundamentally changed in some unpleasant way.
An incident like that helps put the disappointment of a cancelled Feis into its proper place.
*Besides the other obvious questions, such as “How could anyone possibly get on an Interstate highway going the wrong direction and, once on, how could they (and why would they) cross three lanes of on-coming traffic to get into the speed lane?
Back in the Saddle
29 July 2000
I need to get back in shape.
After the aborted Feis, I left on a week’s vacation where I did not follow my healthy regime of avoiding beer, sweets and heavy meals. I also didn’t even think about practicing. Consequently, by the time I got to my next scheduled class, I was in something less than top form. Still, I don’t think I did too badly, considering.
After working on our feis dances, we were taught another Reel. This one is even more complex than the last one, but it is coming along nicely–all but the ‘clicks,’ naturally.
(Speaking of clicks, a classmate gave me a great pointer at the last class that he got off the Internet. He said, instead of concentrating on your heels, try brushing your calves together. That seems to work very well. Brushing your calves together is a lot easier than attempting to click your heels, but in brushing your calves together, you practically can’t avoid clicking your heels. Try it.)
Our school has decided to not reschedule the rained-out feis, so I’ll have only one competition this summer. Bummer!
In addition to that, the one competition I am scheduled for seems a bit, well, inhospitable toward adult dancers. First of all, there are only a few competitions and, despite the official rules, I am not being allowed to dance the Slip Jig. Also, adult dancers are required to pay the gate fee (as well as the competition fees) just as if they were regular spectators. That’s like expecting the violin players to buy a concert ticket so they can get in to play. Not fair!
August
Lack of Practice Pays Off
8 August 2000
We’ve been learning some neat new dances lately, as well as continuing to polish our Feis steps. Trouble is, after being shown the new, complex steps at our last class, I was pretty busy all week and before knew it, class had rolled around again.
I’ve sucked in class before; it’s usually no big deal. My teachers, the other adult dancers, they’ve seen me dance horribly, and they’ve seen me dance well. Screwing up one more time in front of them wouldn’t have bother me.
But there were young kids mixed in with our class.
These were really young kids-eight and ten years old-the kids who bounce and glide across the floor in fluid movements that look as easy to them as breathing. Kids who jumps and spin and kick without breaking a sweat, kids who, whether they are conscious of it or not, cannot help but look at someone like me–woefully botching up the simplest of steps–and think, “God, I hope someone kills me before I get that old and embarrass myself like that.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting that they are anything other than the sweetest and kindest of children, but every child at the age of eight regards every person over the age of twenty as unfathomably old. And to see someone who is undoubtedly much older than their own parents perform so abysmally can only confirm in their young minds the idea that old people simply aren’t cut out for any activity more strenuous than reading the Sunday paper and watching “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” (even though they can’t answer the questions).
If, however, I had danced well, if I had still been as sharp as I was when preparing for the Albany Feis, I would have felt as if I had upheld the honor of the adult dancers. I would have felt that maybe these kids might have thought, “Well, gee, maybe it doesn’t suck that bad to be old if you can still dance that well.” But instead, I danced horribly and probably scarred their young minds for life, imbuing it them the conviction that anyone over thirty is probably better off in an “Assisted Care” facility.
There’s always next week, I suppose. I did manage to get some meaningful practice in this week but I am still stymied but last of adequate space. I practice my jumps in place so much it becomes difficult to do them correctly in class, or at a feis.
Even though I practiced today until my legs were sore, I don’t feel like I made any progress. My dances are still really sloppy, but at least I was able to finish most of them. Maybe I’m just in a slump and shouldn’t worry about it so much. Just keep as sharp as possible and hope everything comes together eventually. That always worked for my singing.
Another Deadline
20 August 2000
Less than a week before the East Durham Feis and I, as usual, am not ready.
I managed to get some meaningful practice in during this past week, but it hasn’t helped. My Hornpipe is so rusty it is beyond hope and, since we’re probably not going to be able to do the Treble Jig, I’ve been trying, without much success, to resurrect an old Light Jig. My Reel is still okay, but that’s it; three dances and only one I’m confident of not making a fool of myself in.
I’m doomed.
It’s also been a challenge trying to keep on top of the new dances we’re learning. The Treble Jig, it turns out is a 32-bar set piece called “Mrs. Brown’s Fancy.” We got one of the younger girls to do the whole thing for us; it looked really cool and now we have something to shoot for.
Practicing that Treble Jig and the new Reel has been quite a challenge. My muscles ache, my feet won’t cooperate, I feel clumsy and hopelessly lost. Which is good; it shows I’m moving forward and not stagnating. And this is going on two years; who would have thought I could continue to learn new things this long?
My Day (Thanks for Asking)
23 August 2000
With three days until the Fies.
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whack shin) . . .
OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW OW!!!!!!
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW OW!!!!!!
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
Up two three four five six seven, scissor kick (whiff) . . .
DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT!!!!!
Then I went and practiced my bagpipes.
Did It Again
25 August 2000
Once more, despite knowing for weeks that I have a feis coming up, I managed to put off any meaningful practice until it got to be too late and ended up taking a day off from work just to ‘cram’ for the fies.
Only this time, there’s a twist.
My obsession with getting the ‘click’ into the Jig step has cost me dearly. My lengthy practice session on Wednesday consisted solely of trying to get the click down pat. I ignored all my other dances, figuring if I worked the full hour or so on my clicks I could finally figure out how to do them. It didn’t work.
(Aside: I still don’t know what I could possibly be doing wrong. I mean, it isn’t all that difficult. I’ve followed advice from my fellow dancers, had my teacher help me, practiced on my own and . . . nothing. Just the occasional whack against my instep.)
On Thursday, I was so sore and stiff I didn’t even feel like practicing but figured I could make up for it Friday. But today, Friday, I’m still sore. My joints are throbbing, my muscles ache and my feet are sore. I also had to admit defeat with the ‘clicks.’ Not only am I too sore to continue practicing them, I have a genuine, and not irrational, fear that if I do try to work on them I might do some REAL damage to myself and not even be able to go to the feis.
So, instead, I lounged around most of the day, caught up on some domestic chores and, in the early afternoon, ran through each of my feis steps, for better or worse, twice. That was all I did, and that’s all I’m going to do until I do them tomorrow on stage.
For the record, my Reel was the only halfway descent dance. The Jig is lackluster and clickless, and I haven’t danced in my hard shoes on anything but carpet since the recital. Even though I managed to finish the steps both times, I have no idea if my shuffles are right or not.
I guess I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow.
Tales of the Feis
28 August 2000
First of all, I have to thank my e-pal Kody who saved me from almost certain catastrophe by warning me never to put my dance shoes on a table. This is undoubtedly the reason I did as well as I did.
This was the least I have ever been prepared for a Feis. Not only were my dances not polished up as they should have been, but I arrived without much of my dance gear. I had remembered my water bottle, but forgot to fill it and had neglected to pack my ribbon so I could tie my competition number around my waist in a color that matched my shirt. Fortunately, I am never without duct tape, so I taped the number to my belt. It worked well enough.
Ironies abounded at this Fies. What little preparation I managed was fraught with fear of having to compete in the ‘Advance’ category (having passed my one-year mark) and my obsession with getting ‘clicks’ into my Light Jig. As it turned out, I did not have to do a Light Jig and was allowed to dance my Treble Jig instead, but I had concentrated so hard on the ‘clicks’ that I had allowed my Treble Jig to slip and completely ignored a discipline that has worked well for me in the past: studying the music so I wouldn’t be caught off-guard by an unfamiliar tune or a different beat.
My Reel was no problem, as expected. I even went first. I managed to start on the right beat and finished without a problem. I got second place.
From there it was all downhill.
Creature of habit that I am, I went first again in the Treble Jig. The song was unfamiliar and the musician might as well have been playing the Star Spangled Banner. I hesitated, started, stopped, asked the musician to step up the tempo, started and stopped again, then threw my hands up and walked off stage. I went to the stage director and told her I was pulling myself out of that competition. Luck was very much with me however (probably due to the fact that I didn’t put my dance shoes on the table) because my teacher happened to be watching. She came right over and talked to me and the stage director and convinced us both that I ought to be allowed to go back up at the end of the line.
By the time my turn came around, I had the tune, and the starting beat, down pat. I started without difficulty and (according to bystanders–I was in a blind panic) danced well and on beat. I got second in that competition, also.
When I stepped up for the Hornpipe, I refused to go first. There were only two of us and the dancer ahead of me asked for a slow Hornpipe. After my Treble performance, I didn’t think I ought to tell the musician to step up the tempo again so I just danced my fast Hornpipe to the slow music. Allow that image to sink into your mind for a bit. No, it was worse.
Still, by default, I got a silver medal.
At the Feis, we met a group of adult dancers from the Rochester area and, in all, had a pleasant day.
The final irony hit just as I was leaving. A dancer I had competed with last year, and who I saw dancing in the ‘Beginner’ group this year, asked me why I had been competing against ‘Advanced’ dancers. She explained that, at this Feis, ‘Advanced’ meant adults who had begun dancing as children. I’ve been dancing a mere eighteen months and had unwittingly put myself in with a group of dancers who have been at this much longer. That made me feel both stupid, and pleased.
How ironic.
September
Poster Boy
12 September 2000
I received the most curious e-mail yesterday.
Apparently, one of our local HMO’s is hosting a Health Fair or some such thing. It’s supposed to go on all this coming weekend; the local press has been pitching it all week. Now I’m going to go to it, not as a spectator, but as a participant. I’m going to be a ‘Healthy Adult Poster Boy.’
For some reason, the people running it decided they needed some Step Dancers, and I was chosen (I won’t even speculate how–lottery, Ouija Board, the Magic 8-Ball) but I’ve committed myself to showing up there this Friday afternoon, with my dance gear, wearing my school colors. I think TV cameras are going to be involved.
Good thing I haven’t let my practicing slide. Well, not a lot, anyway. I just ran through my Reels and Treble Jig and they were fine. Then I opened my e-mail and found out we’re going to be doing the Hornpipe and a Three-Hand Reel (back to the practice board).
Despite my nightmare last night about being up on stage in front of a gazillion people and not being able to recall a single step, I am looking forward to the event. I think it will be a hoot. After all, it’s for fun, not competition. The idea, I am told, is to demonstrate a ‘Healthy Adult Lifestyle.’
I wonder if I should bring some cigars.
Running Late
29 September 2000
Yeah, it’s been a long time, but I’ve been busy.
No, really, I have.
Aside from a lot of traveling, I have, in honor of the start of my third year of dance, been busy redesigning my Dance Diary. I totally revamped the Main Page, setting up a spiffy calendar-type index for easy, and eye-appealing reference. It was totally cool looking, honest, but it took about a minute and a half to load, so I had to revert to the standard looking list format. Too bad; you would have been awe struck.
The Health Fair (mentioned in my last installment) was, as predicted, a lot of fun. I had such a good time I didn’t even mind screwing up most of my dances. Fortunately, they kept the television cameras pointed away from me.
This year of dance has had quite an auspicious beginning. The Boland School has opened their very own dance studio. It’s not quite finished yet, but it is such an improvement over the last place we used to practice. For one, we’ve got a spacious, hard floor (no more attempting to treble on carpet) and a nice waiting area. Once completed, there are supposed to be two dance rooms complete with mirrors, though I can’t really say I see that as an advantage. Watching myself dance in a mirror might, if anything, encourage me to quit. So far, the only down-side to the new place is that they don’t have Guinness on tap.
We also have a full class of beginner adults; just about as many of them as there are of us ‘veterans.’ They dance the same night we do but at a different location, so I’m not certain if we will ever get to meet them. Probably not until the Recital in the spring.
Our advanced class includes, in addition to our regulars, a few adults from another class who have been dancing about a year. We started right off with some interesting and complex steps which are already pushing me to my limits. So much to learn; I keep wondering when I’m going to ‘top out.’
Another project I’m working on is a new web page for the school (new year, new studio, new web page–in my way of thinking, it all follows). It will probably be a few weeks before it’s ready, but watch for future announcements.
October
Still Tinkering
1 October 2000
What was that I said in my last entry? I tried to do something with my Diary Index and found I couldn’t do it? Techie people hate to admit they can’t do something. Consequently, I spent the next two days finding a way to get it done.
Programming is not a job, or even an art as some like to call it. It’s a sickness. Fortunately, they have medication for stuff like that these days.
On the other hand, the new Diary Index looks pretty cool, eh?
All this web tinkering has impinged upon my dance practice (but not my bagpipe practice–it’s a lot easier to grab my chanter and run off a few scales between uploads than it is to go downstairs and jump around in the hallway). I do get to practice at least once each day, but it isn’t much more than a simple run through of the dances; when I say practice, I am talking about ‘meaningful’ practice. You know, shoes, music, the whole nine yards. I haven’t done that since I was panicking over the Feis.
I guess I’m just a little complacent. There’s nary a feis nor recital anywhere on the horizon, so I think I can afford to be lazy. And that is so not true. We’re entering a whole new level of dance this year, one that is not coming very easily to me, so I had better get off my duff (or, more exactly, away from this computer) and put some real practice time in or I’m going to end up having a ‘three days until the Recital and I still don’t know my steps’ panic attack again.
Fortunately, they have medication for that, too.
Step Dancing via the Bagpipe Method
6 October 2000
I’ve been so busy with my web pages that I haven’t had any time to spend on, well, my web pages. Go figure that one out. I did think an update was in order, however.
We’re still doing a lot of work on our Slip Jigs. We’ve learned three since classes began in September but since I can’t always compete in that category, I’m looking forward to moving on to the other dances. We are working on a Treble Jig, a little at a time, which is a good thing; I’d never pick it up any other way. Which brings me to my subject.
Piping has made me a better dancer.
First and foremost, I finally understand the music better. My bagpipe teacher and I spent almost an entire class going over beats and tempos and actually listening to my dance CD and picking out which dances were Jigs, Reels, etc. And why. It was very illuminating.
Secondly, there are several methods for learning the pipes that translate very well into step dance, namely, the ‘Sticky Bit’ and the ‘Stutter.’
Sticky Bits are those note combinations that give one more persistent problems than the others. This method is simple: just keep going over that particular note combination until you can play it ten times in a row without error. This keeps you from tiring out on sections you don’t need to practice and really hammers the lesson into your fingers. In dance, I find it works just as well to concentrate on the one particular move that throws me off rather than run through the entire dance over and over and over. It saves time, energy and accelerates learning. (The best thing about the ‘Sticky Bit’ method is, of course, the name.)
The Stutter method is a way to learn a new tune. Instead of attacking it head on, all at once, you play it two or three notes at a time, all the way through. They you string the notes together into longer and longer segments until, eventually, you have the entire song. We are actually learning our new Treble Jig this way–a few steps per week–and it probably wouldn’t do us any good to try it any other way.
So, in between web updating, novel research, writing and working, I’m stuttering and refining my sticky bits, both in dance and on the chanter.
Oh Goody, the Mirrors Came In!
16 October 2000
The first thing I noticed when I arrived for class tonight was that one entire wall–the one that faces us while we dance–was completely covered with mirrors.
I’ve got to tell you, I was a much better dancer when I couldn’t see myself. Mirrors are heartless, mirrors are cruel; mirrors won’t tell you your steps are “okay” when they really aren’t.
Thanks to the mirrors, I was able to watch myself perform a Slip Jig and I’ve got to say I looked, well, . . . let’s just say it’s a good thing I’m comfortable with my masculinity.
One advantage with having the mirrors is it makes finding the starting beat easier. I can see the reflection of the entire class in the mirrors, so when the majority of them start dancing, I figure that must be the right beat. It isn’t always right, but my batting average is improving.
Another thing I noticed at class tonight, was that we practiced a lot using the ‘sticky bit’ and ‘stutter’ methods. I wonder if my dance instructor has been getting pointers from my bagpipe teacher.
Out of the Slip
21 October 2000
We learned another dance last week, a Hornpipe instead of a Slip Jig. It’s a nice little dance, not too complicated but attractive none the less. And it’s not a Slip Jig.
Honestly, the only thing I have against the Slip Jig is the fact that I can’t compete in it. It’s such a pretty, graceful dance. Yes, it’s a little on the feminine side, but then so are light Reels, if you want to be that way.
No matter what I’m doing–Slip Jig, Reel, Hornpipe–I’d undoubtedly be better off if I practiced more. The good thing about having a year or two of experience behind you is that the dances come easier and don’t require the constant attention they do when you’re first starting out. The bad thing is, it’s easy for me to slip into the idea that I don’t need to practice as often.
Practice is doubly difficult right now because what used to be my dance practice time is now being taken up with my bagpipe practice time (and, in the case of the bagpipes, I’m still at that point where I need to give it my constant attention). Fortunately, I seem to be maintaining my skills by simply keeping up the habits I’ve acquired over the past year and a half, which include standing on my toes (when no one is watching), running through a quick routine whenever a few idle minutes come my way, and visualizing the steps during the day.
Those habits have kept my skills from deteriorating, but if I’m going to become a better dancer, I have to find time to put in some real practice.
What the Mirrors Have Taught Me
24 October 2000
“You don’t look much like a RiverDancer.”
“You never Will.”
“Keep your feet together.”
“Is that as high as you can lift that leg?”
“You look, and I’m saying this in a kind way, just a little silly doing that.”
“Hold your arms straighter.”
“You need to point more.”
“You need to get higher on your toes.”
“You need to lose a few pounds.”
“You need to lose a few years!”
The Dancing Programmer
29 October 2000
I just spent most of last week setting up a web site for my school (check it out: www.bolandschool.com NOTE: that link still works, but that isn’t the website I designed) which means, of course, that I didn’t do a lot of practicing.
It seems I talk about practice a lot in these pages, mainly my lack of it, so I guess I won’t beat that dead horse again this morning. If you want to read about it, just go check out a random entry, the subject is bound to come up.
What I have been thinking about more and more lately are destinations and journeys and the differences between them. I’ve talked before about how I started ID on a whim then set my sights on a goal and nearly quit when I reached it.
That’s the problem with goals. Once you attain them, there’s nothing left to do. My goal, originally, was to become a dancer. Over the months, my thinking changed. Now, I want to be a dancer. There’s a world of difference; the first is a definite, attainable event, the other is a way of life.
This translates to my piping and writing as well; like dance, they are more than simple hobbies, such as stamp collecting, they are disciplines, requiring dedication and effort. They are skills to be honed, not items to acquire. They are things you live with and work at for the sheer joy of the journey until they go beyond defining what you do and, instead, define who you are.
. . . until you practice, not because you know you ought to, but because you can’t imagine not dancing.
November
It Isn’t Easy Being Me
11 November 2000
The past few weeks, our teacher has been starting our classes off with a series of stretching exercises. I suppose I should have been doing something like this all along, but it just never occurred to me, and it never seemed to make any difference in the way I danced. It still doesn’t; I’m no better or worse for having stretched first, but I do get a lot more sore. These warm-ups are killing me.
One of the things we’re supposed to do is bend over and touch our toes. I haven’t been able to do that since my youngest graduated from nursery school. Yet I see others in the class (thanks to the mirrors) with their hands flat on the floor. I don’t think I could ever do that.
And it’s not like I’m out of shape, I just don’t bend the way I used to when I was in my twenties.
Due to time constraints, I’m working on more efficient ways to practice. I’ve been busy with travel and other projects (such as the real web page) so my practice time has often slipped by unnoticed. To help myself out, I made up flash cards. Each index card has one dance written on it. I carry these around, not so much to help me remember the steps but to remind me to simply do them. When I’m waiting for the coffee to brew, or suddenly find myself alone in the office or on a deserted elevator, I pull a random card from my pocket and do those steps.
It’s handy in a number of ways. It keeps me practicing on a consistent basis and it helps keep me from allowing certain dances to slip, since I am prone to concentrate on only the most recent dance.
And I did not make a flash card for the warm-up exercises.
Dedication
15 November 2000
I’ve been thinking lately about what it takes to be really good at something.
It started while I was reading a book and pondering the ways in which it differed from the one I’m writing (HINT: the one I was reading was good, mine isn’t). It wasn’t difficult to make the mental leap toward the answer: dedication.
My book is just as good as the time and effort I put into it, as is my dancing, as is my pipe playing. Now none of this is a huge revelation, but it got me thinking about other activities I’ve engaged in over the years to one degree of success or another. The more successful activities seem to share a common characteristic: I worked on them to the exclusion of nearly everything else.
When I learned guitar, I lived guitar. For weeks I struggled to get a decent chord out, then another and another until I could link them into a simple song. My hands ached, my fingers hurt but I kept working at it. Granted, life was simpler then with no job and family obligations, plus I was blessed with tolerant and or absent nuclear family members.
So, I don’t doubt I can be a good dancer, or a good writer or a good bagpipe player, but I do doubt, very seriously lately, that I can be all of them at once.
Problem is, I don’t want to give up dance or the pipes, and I can’t not write. This stretches my time a little thin some days. The only thing I can do, aside from choosing one activity to focus on it, is what I am already doing. My hyper-organized, concentrated regiment of rotating practice seems to be helping me maintain the status quo, but I’m never going to win any prizes (Pulitzer, or otherwise) this way.
18 November 2000
Maybe I can quit my job.
Update: The Click Saga
I haven’t written about the ‘Battle of the Clicks’ lately. That’s because I’m still on the losing side.
My plan to buy a different pair of shoes is still in the works, but I keep putting it off due to the fact that I already have the ‘bubble’ heel on my Reel shoes and I can’t click with them either. I’m afraid of wasting another $100 or so for no good reason.
The fact that the bubble heels are supposedly illegal doesn’t worry me; I’ve seen dancers from all levels using them without anyone saying a word, so if I can get them and use the effectively, fine.
On the other hand, if I compete with heels that make it so easy to ‘click’ that they are technically illegal and still can’t click, I’m going to look like even more of an idiot.
For the life of me, I still can’t figure out why this is so difficult. Nearly everyone else in my class can do it, I’ve gotten all the advice and tried all the techniques and put in a lot of practice only to come away with sore ankles and a deepening frustration.
It didn’t used to be quite so important, but I’m dancing at a level now where clicks are expected. If I can’t do them, then what am I doing here?
I wonder if this spells the end of my competitions; there are only so many dances I can compete with that don’t have clicks in them.
Just a Quick Note
19 November 2000
I had a strange dream last night: I was at the Olympics and there was an event for Irish Dancing. The competitors were adults in their 20’s and 30’s in traditional Irish costumes. When the danced, their feet moved so fast you could see nothing but a blur. All I could think was, “And I forgot my camera.”
Coincidentally, the Western Regional Oireachtas is being held this weekend. An e-friend of mine is dancing in it–her first competition–so I’ve been thinking good thoughts for her. That’s probably what brought the dream on.
Or it might have been the Kung Pao Chicken I ate before going to bed.
Shameless Plug
24 November 20000
This weekend, November 25-26, seventeen of our dancers are heading to the Eastern Region Championships in Philadelphia, PA. Think a good thought for them or, if you’re not as Agnostic as I am, light a candle or something.
No need to say a prayer to St. Jude, however; I’m not going.
Week Off
26 November 2000
No word on how our dancers at the Oireachtas are doing; I guess most people are more concerned with who won the election, anyway. I do hope to hear good news sometime this week, even if I won’t get it in person.
I’ll be out of town this week and will, subsequently, miss class. No big deal, I guess. Aside from the ‘clicks,’ I figure I’m doing as well as can be expected, and the time away will probably encourage me to practice more. Sitting alone in a hotel room with nothing to do has a way of reminding me of all the things I should be doing; there’ll be nothing to stop me from dancing around the room as much as I’m able.
If my neighbors find that annoying, wait until they find out I’m bringing my bagpipe chanter, too.
December
Bad Step Dancer
2 December 2000
I managed to immerse myself in Irish Culture this past week, but I can’t claim to have done any step dance practice. I meant well; I had my notes with me and fully intended to return to my hotel room for practice sessions after my long hours of programming.
There were, however, at least three Irish Pubs I had to pass on my way back to the hotel (I say at least three because I never got any further than that). They practically screamed at me to go inside for a Guinness.
The good news is I met many interesting people over the course of the work week, most of whom spoke with a fine Irish brogue. The bad news is I can’t even recall what dances we were working on, much less what the steps were.
At least there are still two days to go until class.
Boy, are we hot!!
4 December 2000
The new dance this week was a Treble Reel. Relatively easy steps but, man, is it ever cool looking! And boy howdy is it LOUD!
It’s nice to be able to do something fast and noisy and relatively on-beat without looking like I’m trying to stamp out an infestation of roaches.
This one ought to be fun to practice, too. Maybe I’ll be encouraged to put a little more time in than I have been.
Holiday Haze
16 December 2000
The Holidays are truly putting squeeze on my time, and this year it has been made much worse by the sudden prospect of a new job (to begin right after New year’s) and the necessity of a new PC right in the midst of all the other turmoil. (As you can see, I haven’t even had any time to update until now.)
Things are beginning to clam down to the usual hectic Holiday pace but my practice has suffered even more than usual. The only good things are the dances I have to practice are not all that hard for me and we don’t have class again until January 8, 2001. That give me a bit of time to catch up (or get fat and lazy, which is the more likely scenario).
We’re still working on that really cool Treble Reel. We learned the second part of it, an equally simple but fast and hot looking step. We drilled on the first step until we were all confident of having it down cold, then we drilled and drilled on the second part until I could do it without even thinking about it. Then we strung the two together. You’d think none of us had even heard of a Treble Reel the way we managed to muck it up. Amazing how adding a single, simple step can really throw us off.
But we’ve got three weeks to get it all together. That, and the new Reels and Jigs we’ve been working on. And New Year Resolution time is coming around again, perhaps I can, once again, resolve to be a better dancer. Which isn’t the same thing as actually doing it, but the thought is there.
All Over but the Bill Paying
26 December 2000
The Holiday season is whizzing by and I still haven’t done much in the way of practicing. At least Christmas is out of the way and the agenda for the next few days has lightened up a bit.
This morning I finally found time to mail my Jig Shoes back for repair. There’s nothing wrong with them, really, it’s just that the heels are too narrow. I’m hoping some wider heels (or at least ones that don’t taper so much inward) will make it possible for me to do the ‘clicks.’ I don’t know why I should think that; the heels on my Reel Shoes are nice and prominent and I can’t click with those, either.
I still have all my dances written out in shorthand on flash cards and I still go over them occasionally, but not nearly enough. I’m hoping the next few days will allow me the time I need to put in some serious practice. I’ve really got to get back into shape and loosen the muscles up. If I don’t, those stretching exercises we have to do in class are going to kill me.