Class report 3: thing's I've learned

1. Don't cook your post dance class pierogis and onions while still dressed for dance class. Onion smell does not wash out easily and boob sweat is gross enough, so you really don't want your sports bra to smell extra weird.

2. I might overheat less if I wore less layers. And if the dress code adopted by the rest of the class is any indication, no one will care if I wear shorts instead of old lady capris. Just, don't wear shorts as short as some of the teens - that is, with an inseam shorter then some pairs of underwear.

3. My stamina improves every week. My complete, death-like exhaustion post class remains consistent. This is. . . . good? Despite being able to maintain energy through class, I am still pushing myself hard, I guess?

4. The medium sized child who stares at me all the time (who I was terrified was going to turn into Demon Spawn 2; return of the nine-year old) actually smiled and talked to me for a minute today - and was following my lead in drills. So - yeah! Another tween who doesn't think I am a complete freak-show! I am winning them over, one Disney-channel-lovin'-heart at a time.

5. The trick to my second Novice LJ step is to remember that the heel is the directional lead, not the leap!!! Now just pull it up to speed and keep the bounce

6. Other LJ news, my directionals are good, nothing else to learn there, and my bounce is continuing to improve.

7. The five year old practicing LJ with me is basically my spirit animal, complete with exhausted sighs of 'oh, I need to sit down' 'ouch, my knee hurts' and 'here, let me just go practice by myself over in the corner'. Only she's cuter. Cause she's five. Though, I actually went the whole class with having to sit and breath, so neener-neener . . .


I think that's it for this week gang. I am beat, full of chicken sandwhich amazingness and about to veg out on the couch watching Love It or List It, while yelling at the TV like my Great Grandmother used to.

Slainte!
~Meara

PS. It's like I'm a real student now - finally got around to ordering a school jersey! Woot!

The Irish Dance Blerch

Do any of you guys follow The Oatmeal at all? It's hysterically funny, albeit, not for the easily offended. I'd like to say that I've been following it since before it was popular, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate, mainly cause I am not convinced that there was ever a time it wasn't popular. But I digress. . . .

There are many side-splittingly funny and educational comics on there. You can learn why Tesla > Edison. You can learn about the Mantis Shimp. But most importantly for the case of this blog post, you can learn about The Blerch.

A while back, The Oatmeal (he might actually have a real name, but if I ever meet him I will probably call him 'Mr. The Oatmeal') did a comic entitled "The terrible and wonderful reason I run long distances."

As I have often said that I am rather dwarf-like in regards to running (as in "I'm wasted on cross-country! We Dwarves are natural sprinters, very dangerous over short distances. Just keep breathing, that's the key") I figured that I would not be able to identity much with this particular cartoon. But being the good quasi-fan-girl that I am, I opened it up and I started reading it. And I discovered the name to something that has been haunting me for years. But, really, you need to go read it yourself. I'll wait . . ..  .

Ok, so. The Blerch. I have one. Only instead of a running Blerch it is an Irish Dance Blerch. The same little fat cherub that follows The Oatmeal when he runs has a sister that follows me when I dance. They look identical, except instead of a sweat band, my Blerch wears a giant crazy wig.

Like seriously . . . I want to start a hash tag campaign or somehow directly contact The Oatmeal and have him draw an Irish Dance wig on his blerch, just for me. Somehow, I don't think this will ever happen. But a girl can dream, right?

Basically, what I am trying to say is "what he said", only I am entirely less funny about it.

I've been blerching so bad recently when it comes to dance class, and it's landed me where it always lands me; right before a feis, out of shape, out of practice and thoroughly unprepared. It's a double-header memorial day weekend. Historically, I've done pretty well at the two competitions, but that isn't enough.

The Blerch is telling me not to go. I've learned like 15% of 2 of the new steps I need to learn. I've forgotten steps that I've previously done well at because I've been ignoring them in favor of practicing my trouble-spots. I've been feeling particularly fat and gross and self conscious the last few weeks. Y'know, all those terrible little voices - Fear, regret, doubt, cake.

But, As I was sweating my ass off in class tonight, a muscle tweeking behind my knee and convinced that I was going to die - either from over-exertion or embarresment, whichever came first, I wasn't picky - I kept reminding myself of a few things (except my treble jig - despite my best efforts, I was completely unable to remind myself of that, causing me shuffle like a moron by myself in front of the whole class).

The things I reminded myself of:

1. No matter how much I wanted to drag myself home and drown my sorrows in Peach Milkshakes rather then sweating and derping infront of a bunch of children, I remembered that I am never going to give up this fight. And the only way I am going to get better at it is to keep pushing through it even when I don't want to.

2. No matter how terrified I am of going to these feiseanna and embarrassing the ever living jibbers out of myself, I've already tanked at competions before and I have managed to NOT die from the shame. And I am not going to give myself the option of not going! (remind me of that on Friday when I am trying to bail again, ok?)

3. I might not get a medal, and that is ok. First off, I hardly deserve one with the lack of practice and effort I have been putting into it. And second, to have the privlidege of doing something I love, of pursuing a childhood dream that was always unavailable to me - that means alot. Medals are just icing on the cake.

So, I have a busy week ahead of me. Besides normal life tasks such as work, church, home, husband, etc, I have to find some time and place to practice, I have to ice down my bad knee, I need to soothe my wounded pride and then find somewhere to lock it away so it doesn't get permanently damaged this weekend, I need to iron the frumper and trial run the wig. I need to scope the competition online, find my lost treble jig and lose my bad attitude.

Think I can manage that all in a week?

Alright, going to go put up mt feet as they have not stopped aching since class. I will leave you with this parting thought . . . .