The rest of the ballet went without any interruption. Every moment that I spent on the stage, my gaze was set on that boy. And his was always on mine, in return. I tried to figure out why he would be here. He looked so unbelievably tortured. I looked at the people around him. I saw an old man and an old woman. Grandparents? Perhaps.
My ankle stopped bugging me. Maybe it had to do with the fact that my mind was dwelling on a different, way more attractive and handsome topic instead.
Piece after piece, act after act, finally the ballet came to a close. The curtain dropped, the place erupted in cheers. I stood there, trying to catch my breath. My chest was rising and falling to the steady rhythm of all the other dancers.
The minute the big felt
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Eventually I had to excuse myself. I just couldn’t handle the fame. Out of it all, that was my least favorite part.
I love to dance because of the art. Not because of the fame and fortune it brought me. People just don’t seem to understand that.
I pushed through the crowd and ran away and locked myself in a supply closet. I backed up and sighed. Sadly, this was the only place I could really hide out. I reached around until I found the light string and I pulled it.
Someone stood up in the opposite corner. I screamed and that someone’s hand clamped over my mouth. I kicked and thrashed until he whispered my name in my ear.
“Olivia, relax.” I did and he let go. I moved
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I walked to the Ford Focus that was parked in my spot. I pulled out my keys and popped the trunk, and then I threw in my dancing bag which held my Pointe shoes, warm up clothes, and my stage makeup. It landed with a thunk on the car floor. I scurried my way up to the front and launched myself into the driver’s side.
Shivering, I inserted the keys into the ignition and started up the engine. I was jolted out of my seat by the blaring music. I yelped and reached over to silence the noise. Putting the car into shift, I started my trek towards the Coco Lounge—the coffee house that I assistant manage, work at, and live above.
Well, that’s one of the few perks that came out of the divorce. My mother, to whom I now referred to as Martha, let me live independently. The minute we touched down on the cool Montana ground, and walked off the plane, Martha left me to fend for myself. She drowned out her sorrows with a steady flow of alcohol. She only made her appearance on days like my birthday, Christmas, or thanksgiving, when she would make me cook for her. The only thing Martha actually did for me was pay a minority for my dancing. All the other necessities were left to
I have been in chorus and dance almost my entire life, singing and dancing are my passions and ever since I was young I have loved these activities and participated in events involving this. I've taken dance since I was four years old and still am now. One particular moment that represe...
I froze. I had forgotten about the dance and now was uncertain about whether I was going or not. "Yeah, probably," I answered. She nodded and we discussed other things, but my mind never wandered away from the question she had posed. Suddenly, the bus appeared and I climbed on and took a seat in the front. I needed some time to think.
Im Tumbling and I don't know where I am or what happened. Where am i going? As i'm tumbling i am trying to find myself and where i am. I cant get any grip and im feeling a burning sensation. I have no clue where i am. How did i end up like this?
It was my first time dancing in front of a big crowd, I was nervous and felt stupid for letting my sister talk me into going on the stage in the first place. I knew I was in over my head dancing against these men who probably had practiced a thousand times but it was too late to turn around.
As humans we are afraid of expressing our inner emotions and opinions, constantly hiding in the shadows of our peers trying to escape the harsh reality that may fall from their lips. It's quite alarming to me seeing adults capable of their own thoughts and opinions to change their perspective because of what their neighbor said. It takes a lot of courage to go out in front of a crowd of two hundred plus people and express your feelings, and that's exactly what this 17 year old girl did. The people, place, and the lyrical dance, was all a recipe for a revitalizing new perspective. There was heavy overcast in the sky above, wet, with a cold sensation that sends shivers down your spine making goosebumps emerge on your skin underneath your lightweight jacket.
“ Well that’s the way life goes you get pushed down and you have to try to get out of that nightmare by yourself.” That's what my teacher portrays hard work as and she doesn’t understand that, that’s not what it’s about. When you’re with the same group of people for a long time you start to get attached and really close with each other, but sometimes it goes the opposite way and you completely fall apart. The latter is what happened to me and it got pretty bad. I come from a very competitive background and I played seven different sports before I settled on one thing, dance. With dance it’s a lot different from other sports or activities per say, everyone has to be perfect or it doesn't work. It doesn't matter if I’m dancing in a large group or I'm doing a solo, if I dont have the right timing the whole dance feels and looks off. The problem is when the people I’m dancing with don’t get along and my teacher
After a few minutes I had searched the entire truck and found just a couple small bags with money and coins, maybe a couple hundred. I was beginning to exit the truck, let down, when I heard the theater doors close and footsteps on the concrete coming towards me. My heart was lunging outside of my chest as my hand conducted a death grip on my gun. I saw the truck driver coming around the corner of the truck with heavy, full bags that were packed with money. That’s what I came here for. A flashback of my family, dressed in ragged, old clothes huddled together for warmth on the side of the street suddenly appeared in my head. I reacted from instinct and drew my handgun, then pulled the trigger. The truck driver fell on the ground, and so did the bags of money. I was still for a second, unable to move. As I snapped out of it, I ran to the body, grabbed the bags of money, and
This was the moment that I had been waiting for. I forgot my nerves and allowed myself to trust my training and quickly became lost in the music. At some point during the performance, it seemed I had convinced myself that the audience wasn’t even there. So, as soon as the music ended, I was almost surprised to hear the audience’s thundering applause. I was fully aware that it wasn’t a perfect performance, but I was too exhilarated and excited to care.
Amherst is never dark. And it scares you. There’s a weird feeling in your stomach, the one where it feels like something is gnawing away at it and it makes you sick. Your head is starting to pound right above the right temple. Your feet and knees are fine, however, and so you trail behind your friend as they twirl in their red skirt down the way.
I only knew of the pure joy my spirit felt when I skipped and leaped across wooden floors in a small rural dance studio. Today, as a performer and artist, it is my duty to share that joy with the audience as
I did competitive dancing from age 3 to age 13, and I was very passionate about dancing. I had become very close to my dance family and all the teachers. For the most part, these people had been around me my whole life and watched me grow up. In 8th grade, I had to make a choice between volleyball and dancing. My schedule wouldn’t allow for both, and I was honestly heartbroken and torn. Dancing was my way out of all the things that stressed me out in life. If I was having a bad day, I relied on dance class to help escape life or bad things, and to focus on something I love and be around people that make me happy. On the other hand, I loved volleyball and was passionate about it. Although I had just started the sport, I loved everything about it and the way it was executed.
There were times when I felt like quitting simply because I refused to step out of my comfort zone and because it was getting "too hard", but my love for dance pulled me back. As we danced, I could feel the brightness of the light beaming on me and before I knew it all of my worries were gone. I felt like the fairy godmother from Cinderella, swaying my wand from side to side along with my body. I skip off the stage with a huge grin and a feeling of relief.
I swung my hips to the front of the stage with as much sass and energy that I could give and started to turn on the highest releve that I could bare, but as soon as I transfered all of my weight turning on my toes, I felt the sharpest pain running up and down through my body almost making me pass out, but I wasn’t giving up that easy. I’m not sure how I kept the smile on my face and body still perfectly balanced. But I did. Almost like someone else was dancing for me.
As a child I always wanted to be in the spotlight. I was always the ham in family pictures, the one who had to excel past my brother, and be in the know of everything. When I was about twelve years old, I realized that entertaining people was what I was all about. Since I wasn’t any good at telling the jokes around the campfire or singing acappella, I thought about trying my dance skills. I liked dancing and I have always enjoyed music videos like Janet Jackson’s “Miss you much”, so I thought why not? What did I have to lose? With the support of my parents, particularly my mom, I went for the gusto.
“Dance, the art of precise, expressive, and graceful human movement, traditionally, but not necessarily, performed in accord with musical accompaniment. Dancing developed as a natural expression of united feeling and action.”