I feel that dancers are a special breed. And actually, I love dancers. Dancers are amazing. Dancers are gorgeous. Humble. Ambitious. Passionated. Extremely hard workers. They deal with injuries, competition, setbacks, over training, sore bodies etc etc. And all of this just because they LOVE to dance. And will do absolutely anything to make their dreams come true.
And all of this is true. But that is not why i love them/us. No, I love dancers, because they’re crazy. Like really crazy. The stuff we do. The way we act. How we’re just our own selfs. People do not get us. At all. We just act in a way that is quite un-normal. “Normal” people often tell me I’m strange. And then I mean, OFTEN. But in a group of dancers, I’m usually the sane one. And I love it. Because it’s quite nice to feel like you belong somewhere for a change.
I got into dance late. I was a late bloomer. Both dance wise, but also, in “real” life. I never felt “home” anywhere. But then I met some insane people, and then some more insane people, and I finally realized where I belong. In this strange, passionated, competitive world. Dancers hate each other, dancers want to be each other, and dancers love each other. They compete in class, and after class they tell each other they did great and they looked amazing. Because they did. And because they’re friends. And they need each other. They feed of each other. But in the end there’s this ongoing silent battle. Everyone wants to be someone, everyone wants to be in the limelight, to be the teachers pet, the choreographers baby, and the others, everyone behind the favorite, hate her because she’s gorgeous, love her because she’s amazing and all they wanna do is be her, but all they can do is try their hardest to be her friend. It’s crazy. And I love it. Because despite all this, we always support each other. Almost always.
I’m terrified in class. There’s so many talented students, all aspiring to dance for a living, willing to do everything for the opportunity do dance their whole lives. And then there’s me. Fighting my ass off. Knowing I’m on my chapter 2, while they’re all on their chapter 20. Just wanting to dance. Just loving dance. Terrified of these people. But still needing these people in class. Because they are the ones that motivate me to get better, to fight harder. Their dance inspire me. And they amaze me. But every time I see them before class, a small piece of my heart drops, because I know they will rock the shit out of this choreo, and I wonder, when will it be my turn.
This is a weird post. But then again, dancers are weird. Most of them. So, I guess weird posts are part of it. To sum it up, I’ve never met people more passionated than my dancer friends. I’ve never met people stranger, and more sure of them selves than my dancer friends. And I’ve never met people more loving and unsure of them selves than my dancer friends. I’ve never met people more hating and gorgeous than my dancer friends. It’s ALL or nothing with dancers. There’s no in between. In between equals zero. And we don’t do zero. We do it all. And we love every single day of it. Even when it’s hard and it hurts. Because we all just really love to dance.
brick walls. unpredictable weather. good dancing. inspiring people. pulled muscles. hurting knees. irish roomates. red lips. no american number - trouble. harem pants. pizza slices. saying healthy life starts every day„ it never does. hershey’s cookies and cream. friends. lost friends. found friends. new movement. new me. new goals. different approach. sore legs. need to do ballet. awesome roof top. gym in the building. red cups. no more frozen yoghurt. chips ahoy. west village, always west village. eagerness to improve. no work. just dance.