Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 5)

Dear Friends and Gentle Readers: 

This is Part 5 of a longer piece that I have written. If you missed the first part, there's a link to it down below. I think it wise to break it up into sections, fear easier consumption. Thank you for coming along with me on my journey through the world of dance and as I navigate the new territory of serial blog entries. I think we'll do this again. It was a blast! 

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 1) 
Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 2) 
Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 3) 
Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 4) 

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 5)

My dancing days dwindled after high school. I got into the concert scene, and I wanted to shake my ass in front of the stage, but I quickly learned that the people who did that were the "weird" people at shows, and I did not want to be that guy. The exception to this rule is Duran Duran, because if I am at one of their shows, I am going to enjoy every minute of it and damn the naysayers.

You're the meaning in my (dance) life. You're the inspiration.

I digress. The next time I was called upon to learn a dance was my last semester in college. I was an RA and for training, each staff was required to do a dance number at the retreat. Or something. It was stupid. The chicken dance was involved. Thankfully, it was so ridiculously easy that I was able to learn the steps in record time. We did not win anything though.

It was at this point that I met my other incredibly talented dancer friend, Captain Tesla. She lived and worked in the residence hall with me, and as we became friends, I learned that she did ballet and point. Maybe point indicates ballet in that statement, I'm not sure.

Captain Tesla has very strong opinions about ballet slippers.

I am sad to say the only time I have witnessed Captain Tesla dance was at the honors ball, where I saw her dance to "Thriller" as per the music video. It was awesome. I have also seen a couple of videos from her ballet career, which makes me proud to call her my friend. I am not jealous of Captain Tesla's ability to dance, just amazed by it. That may be what defines friendship - gracefully transcending jealousy.

By the by, I am a very jealous person. Indeed. It's a very nasty trait that stems from a deep seeded self-loathing. Also, I don't like being bad at things. These two things are a dangerous combination and they most often come into play when I am trying some new physical activity. Like dancing.

I see myself like Salieri in regard to dance. I can recognize talent. I desire to have that talent, but it is forevermore out of my grasp. But still, I try. I just dance when no one is watching.

Thanks for sticking with me all week! Questions?  What did you think? Are you a lousy dancer too, or can you really cut a rug? Let me know in the comments!

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 4)

Dear Friends and Gentle Readers: 

This is Part 4 of a longer piece that I have written. If you missed the first 2 parts, there's are links to them down below. I thought it wise to break it up into sections, for easier consumption. Come along with me as I share my journey through the world of dance and as I navigate the new territory of serial blog entries. It'll be fun! 

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 1) 
Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 2)
Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 3)

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 4)

After my ill fated attempt to become a cheerleader, I forgot about dancing until I was in the 10th grade. By then, I had switched high schools and found myself in a very eclectic group of friends. Our leader was Josh Gilyard, the best hip hop dancer and choreographer I have ever personally known. (He's also the only one I've ever known, but he really is super talented.) Dance was his passion and Janet Jackson was his hero.

The man, himself. Check him out at www.joshuagilyard.com!

Being from a small town in Florida, there are very few opportunities for a young man to showcase his dancing and choreographing prowess. A few talent shows throughout the year offered Josh a venue to showcase his talents, but the biggest event was The Annual Lip-Sync Contest, a fundraiser for the March of Dimes. It was pretty straightforward. People would sign up as individuals or groups to lip-sync to a song. The best performance won a prize. If Josh had anything to say about it, his group was going to be the best.

The first year, Josh decided we would do "Lady Marmalade" from Moulin Rouge, which was the biggest thing since sliced bread at the time. He gathered a group of us girls and proceeded to teach us the dance. Although I was sure by this time that I could not learn dance steps, Josh proceeded to try to work me into the routine. He quickly gave up when he saw that I had not been exaggerating and I was relegated to the part of Missy Elliot - non-dancing hype man. This was all well and good until the day of the show came.

Let's be honest though. I was never this cool.

There I was in a long, skintight black skirt, black, strappy, stripper heels, and a crushed velvet top hat. I was doing my hype thing. Then, Andrea one of our more awkward friend and a VERY CLUMSY DANCER knocked me over. As the skirt was so tight, I wasn't wearing any underwear. I still don't know whether or not the whole school saw my whole world.

Despite my wardrobe malfunction, everything else in the bit went off without a hitch and we won. Of course we won. We won every year until we graduated. And Josh never could teach me to dance. He was really good at finding a hype man position for me though.

Check back tomorrow for Part 5 of Saliri Cuts a Rug!

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 3)

Dear Friends and Gentle Readers: 

This is Part 3 of a longer piece that I have written. If you missed the first part, there's a link to it down below. I think it wise to break it up into sections, fear easier consumption. Come along with me as I share my journey through the world of dance and as I navigate the new territory of serial blog entries. It'll be fun! 

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 1) 
Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 2) 

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 2)

At around 6, my mom drove me back up to the school so I could look at the list posted on the door. I didn't make it. I tried hard to take it in stride, but I was disappointed. I guess anyone would be. I tried to be upbeat. I blamed my failure on the fact that I had made my KISS makeup plans known. I blamed my thinner, but not thin enough figure. I blamed the EBBB. 

Also, I'm still kinda pissed that I never got to rock this look.

OK, so I was mad. After all, me and one other girl were the only ones who could do a split. (I have always been very proud of my flexibility.) Thankfully, I had the weekend to get over it, and a big English project to work on besides.

By the following Friday, the sting had passed and I was very involved in my English project - a living museum in which I had a large speaking role. Our class was divided into groups of four, each having to act out a different scene from some book. We set up in the library and other classes came in and watched us do our scenes. When the scene was done, we were supposed to be really still like wax figures. 

Well, wouldn't you know, the EBBB brought her class round to see our little project. I don't remember what our scene was about, but I remember I was a grieving mother and there was a point went I had to start wailing about my dead offspring. It was quite over the top, but I have never been shy about embarrassing myself in that sort of capacity. It was appropriate to the scene at any rate, and I felt like I was making up for my group mates who were much more subdued. This was entertainment, people! We had to put on a show! 

Why I didn't win a Tony that year, I'll never know.

I tried to ignore the EBBB when she came round and performed my part as though I were not trying to save face after blowing my tryout. Apparently, it worked. A short time later, I happened to cross paths yet again with the EBBB who told me "Acting is your forte." 

I'm sure that it was meant as a compliment, but at the time, it came across as "Acting is your forte; cheering is not". It kind of reopened the wound. Thankfully, the school year was nearly over, so I only had a week or two to stew about it before I was distracted by the goings on of summer.

Check back tomorrow for Part 4 of Saliri Cuts a Rug!

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 2)

Dear Friends and Gentle Readers: 

This is Part 2 of a longer piece that I have written. If you missed the first part, there's a link to it down below. I think it wise to break it up into sections, fear easier consumption. Come along with me as I share my journey through the world of dance and as I navigate the new territory of serial blog entries. It'll be fun! 

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 1) 

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 2)

In the eighth grade after much diet and exercise, I had lost 40 pounds and decided that I was going to try out for the freshman cheerleading squad. Why not? I could do a split and I was thin(ner). Surely, I could make the squad. I had these great plans of wearing my cheerleading uniform with KISS makeup to the following year's homecoming game. (I was REALLY into hair metal back then. In hindsight, Alice Cooper makeup may have been more appropriate.)

On the other hand, I rather like this look. (Photo from ESPN)

So, tryouts come and I go to the camp for a whole week. I thought we were going to learn flips and cheers and all that sort of "Totally - Fer Shure!" crap. Nay nay. The tryout mostly consisted of learning and performing a choreographed dance routine. Since when did our cheerleaders dance? I thought to myself. The answer was "Never". It turned out that the year I decide to try out was the same year CCJSHS got a new cheerleading coach. 

She was a thin, blond, birdlike woman who in perpetuity became known as "The Evil Blond Bird Bitch". Having been a cheerleader in college or something, she had plans to turn our rag tag group of misfit cheerleaders into a well oiled "Bring it On" caliber dancing and cheering machine. I had never taken a dance class in my life and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

At least Sue Sylvester has personality. And Moxie.

The first day, The EBBB ran through the whole dance routine and I'm sure as I watched my eyes were bugging out of my head. "You expect me to learn that in a week? Surely, you jest." 

For the next four days, I was committed to learning those dance steps. Every day after school all of the cheerleading hopefuls met in the gym for an hour - maybe longer - to learn this routine. I think we broke it down section by section, but it all went by so fast. I kept thinking, "Wait! Slow down! Can't I take some notes? Draw me a picture, or something!" No such luck.

The only ace I had up my sleeve was the fact that I was friends with the current cheerleading captain and she was in my gym class during the day. With her help and kind encouragement, I thought maybe I could pull it off. 

I tried so hard to learn all the steps. I don't even remember what the song was anymore, but I still remember being in my back yard every night that week with my boombox blaring Duran Duran's "Thank You" album trying to master that routine.


Friday came, and I had my tryout. I did my very best. It's actually one of the last times I remember working so hard for something. I was proud of myself. I was truly hopeful that I would make it.

Check back tomorrow for Part 3 of Saliri Cuts a Rug!

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 1)

Dear Friends and Gentle Readers: 

I have written a longer piece that I would like to share with you all, but I think it wise to break it up into sections. I hope you come along with me as I share my journey through the world of dance and as I navigate the new territory of serial blog entries. I think it will be fun!

Salieri Cuts a Rug (Part 1)

I love dancing. I love the idea of it and I love the reality of it. I love watching people dance, which would explain my love of music videos and musical theater. I love to dance myself. 
Sadly, dancing does not love me. I have no rhythm and no grace. I imagine this has something to do with having never been comfortable in my own skin. I decided over the past month however, that I was going to finally learn to dance. After a lot of research, I decided on belly dancing, as there are no adult hip-hop classes. I once dated a guy who often said he'd like to see me in a belly dancer costume, so the concept didn't seem too far fetched.


Last night I went to my first class. For an hour I shook my hips, flexed my abs, shimmied and swayed. Most of my energy was spent meticulously watching my instructor and trying to mimic her movements and footwork. What little energy was left went to hating her and myself. Her for being so beautiful and so confident and me for feeling neither.

Who wouldn't want to be like Mata Hari. I mean, come on.

If I had not been there with the intention of learning to dance, the teacher would have been a joy to watch. The whole night, all I could think was "She is in love with herself". I know that sounds bad, but I don't mean for it to. I wish I were in love with myself. When the music was playing, it was as if she couldn't not move. 

She was in love with her body, she loved what she was doing with her body, and maybe she was even in love with life. She was so graceful and beautiful and all sorts of other adjectives I wish I was. While she was gliding around like some kind of ethereal flower goddess, I was trying to figure out a way to dance while folding up inside of myself at the same time.

I tried. It does not work.

There's no room for ego, self consciousness, or inhibition in dancing. It is the celebration of your physical form. I'm sure people who are not secure in their bodies can dance, but not me. 

This is, however, not for lack of trying on my part.

Check back tomorrow for Part 2 of Saliri Cuts a Rug!