What I get for playing with fire

I may fire dance, but I've never candle danced. Sure, I've singed bits of my hair off, but I'd never dripped wax onto my head, face, shirt and arm before. At least I can say I've tried something new!

I'm pretty sure how to get the wax off my top (iron it with a paper towel on top of the wax), but I have to see the best way to get wax out of my hair.

8 things, again

It's too hot to knit, sew or practice. It's too hot to cook or eat. It's too hot to blog.* But I will make sure to finally fill out this eight things meme passed on from Natalia:

1. I have been thanked in two album's liner notes, one a Legendary Pink Dots CD (for submitting artwork for said album) and one Ego Likeness CD (my SO was a member of the band).

2. I'm not sure if I've mentioned it here, but I do fire dancing. OK, so I don't practice enough, I'm a really lazy fire dancer. I use poi and fire fans, though my poi skills are rusty to the point that I would not light up at the moment. When I started, my mom stated, "But you're not very coordinated!" Not true Mom, I just don't bother with physical activities that much.

3. As any of my close friends knows, I love the Little House on the Prairie series (the original books, and NOT the TV show). I would definitely draw a straight line from the series to my love of fiber arts, DIY crafting, and interest in local and sustainable food/cooking issues.

4. Man, I love office products. I have a special love for the kind found in older, independently owned supply stores: metal index card boxes, steno notebooks, drafting supplies. I like binder clips and folders and hole punches. A well stocked desk full of office tools and empty notebooks is not only a sign of potential creativity, but of possible life organization.

5. I knit and sew, and I want to learn how to crochet, spin and weave (see #3). I have a vague dream of making my living with these pursuits, but am momentarily too lazy to do so. Of course, I also still dream of having my own cafe, but after opening and running one for the past (almost) two years I'm not so sure I want to go there.

6. Contrary to what most people think about me, I'd like to be a librarian. I have loved libraries since I was a child. I like being able to take someone's vague question and find exactly what they need. I like the organization and information. OK, I don't really like people, or red tape, or paperwork, so maybe it's not the thing for me.

7. Several years ago I directed a scene in a water ballet. Baltimore is lucky enough to have Fluid Movement, a people powered performance art group that puts on water/roller/dancing/etc. shows every year. I would like to be involved with them again, but can we say time commitment?

8. I want a pony. And a llama, an alpaca, goats, a bunny, maybe a sheep (but they are so stupid). My SO and I want a mini-farm of "soft things you can pet".

*By the time I finished this the weather had cooled down. Now it's just "too lazy to blog".

Standing at the source

I spent the weekend at the D.C. Tribal:PURA workshops. Though I have taken them twice before (every year varies slightly, so some information repeats and some is new and all of it is valuable) I still came away with new "A-ha!" moments and ever increasing respect for Carolena Nericcio.

While I let the workshops sink into my brain (and veg out on the couch), I am going to paste a section of a 2004 post from Bare Feet: a dance journal (readers of my personal journal have seen this before). It does a good job of summing up my feelings about the weekend:

. . . . Being in Carolena’s presence is like standing at the source of a mighty river, just at the place where the water is its purest. There’s a sense of vastness there. You know that the droplets from that very spot will travel downstream and intermingle with water from other sources and become huge and impressive- so much so that the spring, itself, can seem impressive, even if it’s really very small. And she is. She’s one woman, but she’s the beginning. Learning from her is more powerful than learning from someone further down the stream because so much of what we do sprang from her.

My thanks to DCTribal not only for sponsoring this event and having my troupe dance at the gala show, but for also awarding me a grant to take the workshops. We're really lucky to have such a dedicated group working to support tribal dance in the D.C. area!

I paid for this?

Yes, I did! I paid for 10 weeks of having my butt kicked in Asharah's Beginning I class. Monday's now involve joining two friends for the round trip to Joy of Motion's Atlas studio in northeast DC and putting ourselves into her capable hands. The class write up mentions sweat, and sweat I did, down my face, my neck, my back, the floor. I'm not too sore, but then we really didn't get into too many squats or butt squeezes. It was only the first week, though. We'll see what comes next.

So today I think I'll take my hoop to a shady spot in the park and try to work out some of the kinks. Tonight is practice in our un air conditioned studio space; this weekend . . . craziness! I have a private lesson with Lisa Sunday morning, a 4 hour workshop with her Sunday afternoon and we're dancing in a hafla Sunday night. Monday? Exhaustion!

Summer is the hardest season . . .

. . . for keeping up with your dance classes.

My teacher had to move her classes to her home studio, since attendance goes down too far for classes to keep going at the studio she rents. I emailed to see if there was room in the class today, but haven't heard anything back yet. Vacations and life in general keep interrupting our troupe practices.

It would be so easy to say, "Let's take a break until fall", but that way lies, well, not madness but surely laziness. Besides, we have three performances to work on for the summer!

You got me

I usually don't do meme's, but this one comes to me via Toya, and I love to indulge her!

Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to then report this on their own blog with their 7 things as well as these rules. They then need to tag 7 others and list their names on their blog. They are also asked to leave a comment for each of the tagged, letting them know they have been tagged and to read the blog.

1. I own a lot of socks. One could say I am addicted to them, especially tall socks. I have an entire (small, three drawer) dresser devoted to just socks (tights and such are in a different dresser). I really dig Socks Dreams.

2. I am convinced I am supposed to be taller, probably by a few inches. I am the shortest person in my family, and I think this is because I started drinking coffee as a small child. My grandfather would pour me a cup and I'd take it with evaporated milk and 2 Sweet N Lows. When all of my friends got into drinking coffee in high school they acted like it was a new thrill. To me it was just a tasty tasty beverage. I can still drink lots of coffee late at night and go right to bed.

3. When I tie knots, I usually tie them three times. This is some kind of a holdover from my spell castin' teen witch days or something. When I sew I always knot my thread three times; when I tack something I will pull the thread through and knot it three times. Starting or finishing embroidery? Secured three times to the cloth. Finishing a knitting project? I knot the yarn three times.

4. I wish I had some sort of organized belief system, but I don't. The best way I can describe myself is "vaguely pagan", and that's about it. I guess I pretty much believe that this world and our whole being is incomprehensible and pretty awe-some. As J and I joked at the PA Fairie Fest we really like the idea of, "Be excellent to each other." I think there is more to the world that can be seen, and I'm not talking about needing microscopes.

5. I have a very visual memory, and cannot stand to have my physical environment rearranged by other people. This is why I fuss when we're camping and the campsite is messy, or why I constantly arrange and rearrange my work spaces. It can be frustrating living with a messy person, because I want to know where everything is all the time. Ask me sometime where something is, and I'll probably close my eyes and move my hands around in the air to "place" it, then I'll be able to tell you exactly where it is located. I think this visual memory is one reason I give really good directions.

6. I want to travel and live in other places. I am terrified of going to unknown places or living somewhere I do not know like the back of my hand. This causes me a lot of internal strife.

7. Sometimes I hate myself for it, but I love pork products. Bacon. Sausage. Pork chops. Pork roasts. Pork rinds! There, I said it! I like to snack on pork rinds. I also think pigs are incredible animals, and like to hang out with them. I also think Pig (see: my pet cat) is totally awesome, but I do not want to eat him. Hopefully one day I'll be able to put this love aside and go vegetarian

I participated, but I'm not so much for passing these on. So, I tag you!

The teaching dilemma

Why do so many belly dance students become belly dance teachers? Am I the only person who sometimes wonders if belly dance can be like a university's English Lit. department, turning out students that will become teachers to the next generation of students in a never ending cycle (this is coming from someone with a degree in English with a Women's Lit. concentration. I have two career choices there: teach,maybe at the college level, or be a barista. Ahem).

I ask this because I sometimes wonder about my own place in this chain. A year and a half ago I did an evaluation with my teacher before she moved away. She asked me at one point if I ever thought about teaching belly dance (not in the near future, but when I had more experience). I said I wasn't sure I was cut out for it, as I don't think of myself as very patient especially with people who have trouble understanding and need lots of help, or people who don't think/learn like I do and need different teaching methods to help them understand. This is something I've always had trouble with; one of my big challenges at work is training, as I want to tell people, "Just . . . do it. It's not hard. Figure it out!" (which is much how I was trained to do my my job, or parts of it).

Currently I do not feel I have enough belly dance experience to teach other people. I don't feel that I am 100% totally positive all the time accurate on how I do moves, especially since we do a lot of ATS and it is a codified "system" of dance. I don't want to teach and realize I'm constantly changing what I am doing. Not that dance does not change and evolve, but I want to make sure if I teach a vertical hip figure eight on the down up (taqsim) that I am doing teaching it exactly right. To go hand in hand with that, my troupe is currently tweaking moves, dropping or changing things we were taught to fit the ATS format or to better reflect our style of dance. I feel we're in a state of refinement that reflects our growth as dancers and as a troupe, which is good but also currently unstable.

So with my "no teaching!" stance why then did I just start a notebook where I am entering detailed notes on all the moves I know, from the ATS standards to solo dancer moves to Kallisti specific ideas? Because Baltimore is lacking so horribly in a tribal scene that I feel one day I'm going to throw my hands up in disgust and admit, "F#@k it, I'll teach!" (actually, if you know me you know it'll involve a lot more cussing than that). If I eventually get to that day I want to make sure I have lots of background work accomplished - information on the moves, the formations, how I'd put them together, what works, what does not, tips and tricks for passing on this detailed body of knowledge. Even if this information is never utilized in the classroom it is still valuable for me, a personal tribal compendium perhaps.

If that day does reluctantly come I hope I have other tools under my belt: a Fat Chance Belly Dance General Skills certification, probably an ACE certification, insurance, about a million more years of dance experience, a steady tribal teacher of my own. Ok, hell may freeze over before the last one happens, but you can't blame me for being optimistic! Most of all, though, I hope I have the confidence to pass on not only the practical details of tribal belly dance but also my enthusiasm and love of this art form.

Edited: to correct definition of taqsim. See!

Short letters to things that may not respond

Dear hands,

Play with confidence. Practice. Doing these things will only make you better. The zills and the drum will not bite, they are something to be worked with not against. Honestly, people will not point and laugh if you mess up.

Love,
Me

* * * * * *

Dear body,

Yes, I am going to schedule a check up, then get those knees looked at. I am sorry I don't take very good care of you. I admit, going to the doctor's makes me scared. I will try to be nicer to you.

Love,
Me

* * * * * *

Dear self,

Admit it, you have to get off your butt. Try really digging into things instead of flitting from item to item. Think of how good you could be if you really, and I mean REALLY, applied yourself. And one last thing. Practice. You know what I'm talking about.

Love,
Me

* * * * * *

Dear new notebook,

You're plain, nothing fancy or expensive. I love you. I love your college ruled pages, the nifty pockets, your three sections. I am excited about filling up your pages. Thank you for indulging my Type A tendencies. Maybe you would like a sticker to dress you up?

Love,
Me

On that note

Memo to self:

Remember that dancing and having fun thing? Like the hours of dancing Saturday night at the Goth Prom party? How you didn't have to think about dancing, it just happened? Work on that! It's fun! It's good for you! It looked good! Sure, it wasn't all belly dance, but there was a lot of it in there.

Also, if dancing wildly for a few hours did not cause massive thigh and calf pain then the classes and practice must be paying off. Bonus!

Who would've thought?

My "Duh" moment of last week:

You're dancing because you like it, and you like the music, so just go ahead and dance to the music!

We were dancing a 15 minute set Friday evening at al all tribal night at a restaurant. I was worrying about specifics of the performance, how would my little solo go, the usual round of thoughts.

Then something hit me. I really like most of the music we listen to. I really like dancing, whether it's belly dance or just out at parties or fun or whatever. So . . . (wait for it) . . . I need to carry the fun I have from dancing casually over to my belly dancing (particularly when performing)!

I know, it sounds elementary. I am one of those people who gets into things for the technical aspects; I can very much put a mental, academic spin on my hobbies. It takes effort to just relax and enjoy things for what they are, without my brain overdoing the whole experience.

Was I successful Friday night? Not completely. But I'll keep reminding myself that "Hey! This is FUN!", and I think it'll take hold eventually.

On that note, today I am going to the library then to the park and I am going lay in the grass with a book and not do anything else. I'm not going to practice my hula hoop or my poi, I'm not going to take any dance stuff along. I am going to relax and read and enjoy the weather. I swear.

Something I wish for

OK, so I actually have a dance teacher, a very good one. She has developed her own method for teaching and performing belly dance, a way which focuses on technical precision and doing little harm to the body. I really admire that cerebral aspect of her style and method, though sometimes it's execution can leave me a little . . . uninspired.

Beyond that, though, I have no teacher in the style I dance. I like to refer to Baltimore as the "Tribal Hinterlands". There is interest here. There have been classes, though three teachers have moved/stopped teaching, one's style has changed, and two other teachers admit that they are teaching a highly fused style that is moving away from belly dance. One of my troupe mates is teaching a beginner improv tribal class, for non-baby beginner belly dancers who want to try out the tribal waters. It's a small class so far, but I bet it will generate a lot of interest (go Lyra!).

So for those of us who are past the beginning stages of ATS or ATS based tribal there is really nothing. There are the options of workshops, traveling to teachers, and video study - we're lucky DC and it's strong tribal scene is so close! When there were teachers tribally focused teachers in Baltimore I found I took beginner classes over and over because of the interruptions in classes or having to switch my teacher when the previous one stopped teaching. Though I think my basic grounding in the style is stronger because of this repetition, it's also frustrating to know that my tribal education was held back because my dance classes did not progress in a constructive linear fashion.

There are some days I feel like I would kill for a teacher in the style I love. I have my troupe, which is fantastic, but sometimes I don't want to be self directed! I want someone to tell me How It Is and How To Do It, to make decisions and inspire me. I want someone else to tell me when we're performing, what we're wearing and what music we're using. I want someone to kick my butt when I'm tired and pat me on the back when I'm doing a good job. I want someone to look up to.

While having a tough time in class a few weeks ago, hour 2.25 out of 2.5 hours, I almost started crying right in the middle of the class. As much as I can admire my teacher 's style it is not what I love, and it doesn't feel natural to my body. I was so frustrated; I want to be learning and working hard at what I love, not at something that doesn't really move me. All of a sudden my chest got tight and my eyes started to tear up, and I was grateful for the beginning of our cool down and the moment to collect myself.

I keep going back to class because one (me) cannot live on video instruction and self motivation along. I need the kick in the butt provided by an actual class, the feedback provided by a real live teacher. But sometimes I get really sad thinking of the lucky students who get to study the dance style they really love and I wish it was me.

A Thing of Interest in Baltimore

On May 24th, local troupe Indra Lazul will start hostessing a weekly event at Latin Palace in Fell's Point. The event is 1001 Nights. My teacher Piper will be dancing the opening night.

There is another weekly ME night, Shanta at Red Maple. I'm not too keen on it (not my kind of bar/club, not crazy about their current policies regarding their dancers). Perhaps 1001 Nights will fullfill my desire to get out to dance for fun!

My dance lineage

Head over to the Gilded Serpent and check out the vintage pictures of Masha Archer and her San Francisco Classic Dance Troupe. Masha would be my something-great-dance-grandmother. I love looking at these photos; the troupe blends what I love about the presentation style of both 1970s American belly dance and ATS.

Also, I am coveting the jewelry. Coveting!

Reversal

I've discovered an annoying habit I have picked up. When I need to be working on a dance craft project, I want to knit. When I should be making progress on one of my *cough* six *cough* current knitting projects, I want to play with the accumulated bits and bobbles I've picked up to put towards future costumes.

Today I allowed myself some time to listen to an archived episode of Cast-On, then swore I'd work on the belt I need to have finished by Friday. Then I poked around on line a little more. Finally I loaded up Episode #4 of the Craft Sanity podcast and pulled out the belt.

I'm working on two piece belt, made from the top of a mirrored skirt that's been cut in half and has ties on the sides; a common style. I decided to try this style as my current belt ties in the front and always ends up shifting up in the back when I dance. I know I don't want to do the uber amounts of yarn fringe or anything like that (*note to self* when feeling like a rant, go off about novelty yarn).

So I made a bunch of tassels, put on the belt, held the tassels up to it in various places. No. Unpinned two long beaded tassels I had on my old belt, held them up. Better. Grabbed a length of chain-with-dangles I bought last year from ShimmyBliss. Dipped on the sides? No. Across the front below the belt? Hmm, better. Picked up the tassels again. Still not right.

Then I thought, why be complicated? Go for the belt with a piece of fabric or a plain scarf underneath to add some contrast and cover the top of my skirt. Add the long beaded tassels and the chain swag. Get to that point, maybe add some beads to the bottom of the belt ties, see how it goes. It doesn't have to be noisy, fluffy, tangly or weigh a ton.

So the belt-and-options are sitting on my craft table for when I get home tomorrow. Now it is too late to dig back into the two knitting projects sitting on my desk: simple 3x1 ribbed socks in a flecked sage green, and clog socks with a cable and lace pattern down the back knit in a raspberry/pink/purple/dark blue hand-painted yarn. They may end up sitting there until the end of the weekend, after Saturday's trip to Philly, after opening the store on Sunday morning and going to a family party in the afternoon, after everything when I can finally sit down and relax. And then I start working on my costumes for the Fairie Festival.

I can do that but I can't do it all

March blog carnival topic

If you belly dance, then you know you have said or heard this phrase at some point: "I can do that!". Sometimes it shows up as, "I can make that!". I think all but the most non-DIY person among us has made this comment, stating that yes indeed, this item here? I could make that my self, nooooo problem. Sometimes this statement is made with a note of superority in the speaker's voice. That simple hip wrap? Why buy it, I could make it myself? Those decorated dance slippers are how much? Give me some glue, jewels and ballet flats and I'll do it in my spare time! The long belted robe cover-up out of interesting fabric? I could make one just like it for myself!

I've had my own DIY moments. I am a crafty person. I sew a bit, I can knit and embroider, I can figure out how to make a lot of things, and if I can't do them already I can use Google and the library to help me out (I get my SO to chip in on the more heavy duty projects, such as my fire toys). I've had many make-it-myself moments, some more successful than others. The cover-up: batik cotton material and a bathrobe pattern, this was pretty simple and worked out well. The velvet stretch choli: the free pattern was fine, though I had trouble with enlarging it on a copier and damn I hate darts. The three tiered 10-yard skirt: gathering is the bane of my existence, I think my SO would take up a collection to buy me a new skirt before he'd let me sew one again. The coin bra: several weeks and countless sewing needles later it was finally done, and my poor finger tips peeled for weeks, but it fits me perfectly. The mirrored tassel belt: the first one went through two remakes to get it right, the second one has just been started.

Making things myself has taught me a lesson, though. Yes, I can and will do my own projects, because I love the process of making items, but seriously it is often worth it to just pay to purchase an item. This is doubly true when I can buy an item that is being made by a small business that specializes in dance wear. Instead of making my next tiered skirt, I'm buying one from Flying Skirts (as well as any choli's I want, unless I need one out of a particular fabric, then I'm locking myself in my office with FCBD/Folkwear's pattern and you can shove food under the door until I emerge). I'm seriously thinking of buying some pantaloons from Belly Roll, because even though I can whip them out in no time I end up spending not only the money for supplies but also a chunk of my time to finish the project.

See, that's what it boils down to. Time. I bet a lot of people will talk about time when they talk about their dance budget. I may not have a lot of money, but what I'm really low on is time. If I really need to save some cash I'll make sure to hit the fabric sale racks or dig in my stash and come up with what I need. I'll repurpose jewelry and clothing into what I want, and I'll spend my time-budget getting the items finished. My coin bra probably cost me way more than a similar handmade item would have if I'd bought it custom made, simply because I spent many evenings sitting at my desk pulling needles through the bra with a pair of pliers (and cussing). Those evenings could be calculated not just in time, but also in money, an hourly wage paid to myself for every minute spent working on a costume (this is one way the retail cost of an item is figured).

Luckily I have a job and the luxury of extra spending money. I can keep adding my spare cash to the tribal piggy bank, and one day I can pour out the money, add it all up, and buy something I want. Try doing that with hours spent stressed out over uneven skirt gathers or yet another damn dart! My time is precious to me, more than money, and I'd rather pay it to myself in hours spent practicing, evenings spent knitting, afternoons spent hooping or mornings spent relaxing with my loved ones.

Dance Crush Part 2

OK, so I've never seen her dance in person, and I have never met her, but I've been hearing for years that Nanna Candelaria is a fantastic dancer. I checked out her (few) YouTube videos, and now I have a coast-to-coast dance crush. Watch how she makes her belt fringe dance with her!

Hooping . . . fever?

On my Christmas list this year I put (among other things because I am a greedy greedy person): hula hoop.

OK, not the old hula hoops you used as a kid, the flimsy striped circles with the beads inside. Nope, I wanted one of the new breed of hula hoops, made of heavier poly tubing, connectors and some colorful tape. These hula hoops fit adult bodies, are easier for starter hoopers to manage and can be easily made at home. Hoops like this come in plain, multi colored, UV reactive or light filled versions. They can be small, for kids, or large, for taller or rounder people. I wanted one!

I was introduced to hooping through my involvement with the Baltimore/DC Burning Man community, particularly at the biannual Playa Del Fuego event. It didn't really catch my eye until I watched a friend hooping - her movements were so smooth, so joyous, so much a dance and MORE that I thought, "I want to try that!". I didn't get an opportunity at that burn, though a few months later I did get some instruction while at a dance camp. All I managed to pick up at camp was the ability to keep the hoop up for about a minute, but I loved the whole process! I dropped the hoop, I shot it across the lawn, I hit myself in the head, I pulled muscles all along my sides but it was worth the satisfaction of getting that huge plastic circle spinning for just a little bit. That's when I added "hoop" to my Christmas list.

It is now a few months past Christmas, and the hoop is finally here! Make that the hoops are finally here. J read the hoop making tutorial, then went all over the area to find the proper tubing while being unable to find the proper connectors. So the hoop was partially done: a white unfinished circle, decorated with a pattern of made by laying lace over the plastic and coating it with spray paint. That's the hoop I got on Christmas. A month later, on a hunch, I went to an unvisited hardware store, and there were the connectors. Except, the size I picked up didn't work and J was leaving for tour for a month, before I could make another connector run. Finally I got back to the store, he got back from tour, and the second connector worked with a little tweaking from J. Success, a hoop!

But this hoop, this hoop was hard to use. Larger hoops spin at a slower rate, which is often easier for new hoopers. This hoop was smaller, just a little taller than my navel, which means I'd have to hoop fast for it to stay up and moving. Since I'm new at this I couldn't keep up my speed, and the hoop kept falling. So, "Larger hoop please!" I demanded, and J was happy to fill the order. Now there are two hoops; the second, when resting with one edge on the ground, comes to my chest, and it is decorated with a simple stripe of black electrical tape over the white base. It's rotation is slow and almost hypnotic, much easier for my untrained muscles to handle. J has happily found he can use it too, so for the past few days we've been grabbing the hoops and working with them in the middle of the living room.

Now, hooping is not belly dance. The hip movements that work with belly dance do not work with hoops. You can dance with hoops; I recommend looking up videos on YouTube to see what is possible. What I am looking forward to is learning a new kind of movement, one I can dance, one that that can be exercise that does not involve going to the gym, one I can take to the park or a party or a festival. One of my troupe members hoops, so I'm going to pick her brain while we're hanging out (I bet it would make a great pre class warm up!).

I admit, belly dance has a lot of my heart, and it's not going to be replaced, but it(and knitting, and sewing, and fire dancing) are going to have to scoot over a little and make some room for my hoop. I hope there's some space left when I finally learn how to play my accordion.

Good luck!

I just wanted to say good luck to Toya and the rest of the NDC. They are headed to Rakkasah West, and perform on the Cabaret Stage Saturday evening. Have fun, dance hard, and don't spend too much money! (Oh, and give us a call when you get back so we can get the full report)

Looking With A (Gleam In My) Dancer's Eye

February blog carnival topic

Whenever my mom and I go clothes shopping together (which is not enough) we always make sure to point out any sequined, beaded, embellished clothing as "Nana Clothes". My grandmother loved such items; all of those decorated holiday sweaters, dress up sparkly tops and glittered shoes for going out (I wore a pair of her 1960s dancing slippers in high school).

My mom dresses more in earth tones, and it seemed for a while that perhaps this eye for the the shiny had skipped me too. I started dressing in (almost) all black starting in middle school. This followed a brief neo-hippie phase, until I figured out I hated the music, and though I loved the clothing I didn't like identifying myself as a part of that crowd. Basic black became the standard instead, more in the teen angst version than any attempt at being chic or sophisticated.

20 years later black still dominates in my wardrobe, though there has been brief forays into color. I'll wear blue jeans now. I own some red Danskos and boots. Purple, ironic shades of pink, and deep jewel tones will make an occasional appearance. But I think all the years of monochromatic dressing left me with some kind of inherent inability to color coordinate. Okay, there was the entirely chartreuse green outfit: dress, tights and matching underwear set, accented by my hair (dyed with one side a matching green, one side magenta) and a pair of thrift scored, Italian made, raspberry suede, low winkle picker boots. But other than that it's been mostly black, black, black . . . and striped socks.

Then came the dance classes, and my subsequent browsing on belly dance websites and discussion forums. Suddenly my world was a kaleidoscope! Sure, I may prefer to dance tribal, and my natural inclination is to the bright primary and deep earth tones found in many of the ATS costumes, but really I'm not picky. I love everything from the pastel of layered chiffon circle skirts to the deep tones of a velvet beledi dresses. Screaming pink Egyptian style lycra costume? Sure! Dusty browns of a minimalist tribal fusion outfit? Yep! The occasional foray into a dramatic white bedlah, the antithesis of my all-black days? Love it! Sure, I don't WEAR all of these, but I love cruising costume vendors and dancer's galleries, gobbling up the bright costume confections.

What really grabs my eyes though is the shine, the sparkle. Shisha mirrors on a tribal belt, glittering fringe dripping from a bra, sequins edging a veil; they all elicit a low, "Oooo, shiny, pretty" from me. When watching a dancer I tend to focus in and out, from costume to dancing, following a snaky arm up to a sequined bra to shoulder shimmies down an undulation to the belt and fringe accentuating a hip figure eight. I sit back and take in the entire package of dancer and outfit and music, then focus in on tricky technique, clearly expressed emotion or a particularly stunning piece of costuming. When I see a vendor's table of bedlah or rack of dresses I head over to check them out, drinking in the piles of coins, sequins and beads. Sure, I tend to tassels and pantaloons and coin bras for my performance gear, but I am a sucker for the glitter.

It took me about a year into my dance classes to realize that belly dance indulges my eye for "Nana Clothes". Perhaps there is some deep seated happy association that links fond memories of my grandmother and her sparkly clothes to the pleasure I get from watching (and being) a glittering, shining performer. Or perhaps the love-of-the-sparkly gene didn't pass me by, it was waiting for just the right catalyst to turn it on. Dancing is a hell of a lot of fun, but to quote Baltimore performance group Fluid Movement, glitter makes it better.

Performance Blues

When I started dance classes I never intended to perform. When my classes began I'd already been doing fire dancing for almost a year; some of that involved performing in very low key situations. The last time I'd stood up in front of a bunch of people was in high school during my theatre geek days. I didn't think that as an adult I'd be performing on a regular basis, though.

Belly dance has a tendency to take you down the road of performance. First it's dancing for your classmates, perhaps in an end of class session "show". Then it's on to informal haflas, where you cobble together an outfit and get up in front of friends and family. Many more haflas, studio shows, and other informal events follow. Then suddenly it's gala shows (the ones that happen during a workshop weekend, are yearly events sponsored by local teachers, or something of the sort). Dancing at fundraisers, or showcase nights at local venues. Before you know it you're involved in the whole, "What should I/we set as a pay rate" debate and BAM . . . you're performing.

Now note, not all dancers do this. A lot of people never get on stage or stop with the the informal performances. They don't want to get on a big stage or commit the time to performing or deal with the stress, and that is great! I think it is awesome to do something because you love it for yourself.

I'm one of those people, though, who likes to have something pushing me forward, and beyond my own perfectionist streak I've found that the deadline of an upcoming performance works rather well. What I've also found is that the looming deadline pushes my stress level up to new heights.

Sometimes that can stress can be good. In November I danced at the DCTribal sponsored Tribal:PURA show with my troupe mates Brooke and Nora. We had two weeks to pick music, brush up the new moves we'd been working on, and get costumes together. It was two weeks of intense rehearsals, evenings in my living room going over and over the music, and last minute sewing. We were practically delirious on the ride to the venue, nervous as hell through the run through, nauseous while waiting our turn backstage. There were minor flubs on stage, but it went over well, we got a great response and we felt good about what we'd done. The show left us is on a high (thank goodness, as it was the start to a long weekend of workshops).

This past weekend the same trio danced at a local hafla. Again there was the rushed lead up, though intentionally more relaxed this time. There was nervousness before the show (even worse in a way because we were the last to perform). Despite minor problems (such as my belt getting up close and personal with Brooke's belt, locking us together until I spun around and released us) it went well. Afterwards, though, I crashed. Like literally as SOON as we stopped dancing I felt like I could have laid down on the floor and slept for a million years. It was like the pre-show stress and recent troupe goings on had all crashed down on my head and left me completely drained. We left, I schlumped home with my SO, peeled off the layers of my costume and swapped them for my pajamas, and spent the evening staring at the computer.

When dancing leaves me energized it is fantastic. When it leaves me drained it is awful. I have to learn that all of my dance experiences will not be great ones, that I can't beat myself up over it and I have to keep moving forward. I can't let the bad times sour my opinion, because performing can be great and I know I'm going to do it again - an invitation to dance will pop up, we'll all decide to go for it, and the cycle begins again. I just have to hold onto all of the good times and remember that the tough ones are the situations that usually lead to a period of change, growth and progression. I have to keep reaching for the next goal, raising the bar for myself and finding out what I am really capable of achieving.