The slough of despond

And he said unto me,  ‘This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended: it is the descent whither the scum and filth that attends conviction for sin doth continually run; and therefore it is called the Slough of Despond. For still, as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, there arises in his soul many fears and doubts, and discouraging apprehensions, which all of them get together, and settle in this place: and this is the reason of the badness of this ground.’

Paul Bunyan, The Pilgrim’s Progress

I am in the slough. The slough of despond. Whither has all my motivation gone? To do anything but the lamest of household chores? The most I am attempting to get accomplished today, it seems, is to not take a nap. And then sleep another 9 hours.

Outside of a LOT of family and relationship drama, also feeling a bit glum about how much my dance skills have regressed in just a few weeks. Well. Back to the studio, I guess. How else do I know that I am in the slough? I am reading Star Trek novels. Yessss. My guilty pleasure from my teenage years. Am about halfway through Diane Duane’s Bloodwing series, ordered for a buck off Amazon. But the sequel, The Empty Chair, is only available as an ebook…curses!

Actionable action plan? Avoid nap. Cook shrimp with lemon for dinner. Study Chinese for an hour. Go for walk/jog with roomie. Shower. Scope out sources for research next week. Look up info on photography courses. Finish Eudora Welty’s The Optimist’s Daughter.

Actually, the slough of despond is quite comfortable. It has the consistency of a soft and luscious pudding, with all the guilt that usually accompanies such confections.

A new studio, and those teenage dancers…

Two days ago, I attended class for the first time in two weeks. After I hobbled back to my apartment, I lay prone on my bedroom rug because my legs had essentially dissolved into jelly. Astonishing how fast that muscle strength goes away…

So although I have bought a class card, I’m not sure I’ll be staying with this particular studio. I plan on finishing the class series, of course, but if the other teachers/classes are like this one, I won’t be buying another set.

The class itself was challenging, yes. My thighs will (screamingly) attest to this. The teacher was clearly knowledgeable. The piano accompaniment was good. The studio building itself was charming.

So what was wrong? Simply: It may have billed itself as an adult class, but it did not cater to adults.

1. No individual corrections at barre, except to the teen, pre-professional dancers.
2. No corrections of older adults (and there were women there who were probably in their 50s, 60s) at barre.
3. All corrections in center directed towards teen pre-professional dancers. During center, these were the dancers that the teacher watched; she gave only passing glances to the older women.

Now, I don’t want to be uncharitable towards teen dancers–they are lovely to watch, and often quite fun to have in an adult class. They tend to be less easily embarrassed than older adults, particularly beginners, so teachers feel more comfortable using their bodies to demonstrate a teaching point. In fact I would go so far as to say that I really enjoy having a big range of ages and body types in class; it’s just more interesting that way.

But it’s simply not worth the money or effort if the teacher ignores anybody who isn’t one of these dancers. Frankly, I and most of the other women in class have absolutely no ambition of performing or a professional career. It’s obviously not in the cards. But we’re in it to improve, and if a teacher pays you no attention at all, then what’s the point? Certainly, teachers have a tendency to focus on students “with potential” (i.e. the right body type), but honestly, adult students generally have no potential for performance. Perhaps teachers just do it out of habit, but as a paying customer, I find this irritating.

This shouldn’t be as much of an issue in beginning adult classes; the pre-teen and teen dancers don’t tend to drop in to these classes. It’s only when the levels begin to mix somewhat at the intermediate and advanced levels do you get this kind of in-class discrimination.

So I have 11 classes left to go…here’s hoping that the other teachers are better than this.

There is plenty to do

So, I’ve moved to a beautiful Northern California city; it’s gorgeous here. I have been dreaming of living in this place since I was about 14 or 15 years old, and it only took me a decade to get here. Secured a darling, if very old and slightly crusty apartment with a childhood friend, and am settling in.

Suffice it to say that I haven’t been to class for nearly two weeks now. Before the move there was a wedding, another trip, and a lot of academic work that needed finishing. Now I’m exhaling a bit–I woke up this morning at 7, puttered around the apartment for an hour, and then went back to bed for a luxurious nap between 8 and 10.

I must admit that I’m rather dreading returning to class and seeing how much has, well, gone away. But it will have to wait until all the furniture assembled, the clothes and things put away, and so on.