The Whirling Dervish

Well, I guess it's time for a new update on my blog. Thank you for your prayers on my behalf- I'm sure they helped since the dance instructor for my Jazz class only let out one uncontrollable guffaw during our first lesson yesterday. I know it was me he was looking at. You see, despite the fact that it was the first time the class met, we commenced dancing. In our first class, we not only learned to walk forward, backward, and in a circle (I liked those parts- they were easy), but we also began more complicated steps such stepping and sliding, stepping and spinning, and (my favorite, and evidently my teacher's favorite to watch) walking while vigorously shaking the hips. After his demonstration of the last move, I'm sure the look of panic creeping onto my face was quite comical, and well-founded after attempting the hip-shaking and finding out that I just don't move like that.

As I told my sister after class was over, I have been iridescently white my entire life, and nothing has changed or will change anytime soon. My attempts to walk with some 'tude were reminiscent of the rusty tinman. My step and slide looked like a brotha with a gimp leg. Snapping was a definite no because it distracted me too much from the task of keeping up with which leg was my right leg and which leg was my left. White men's jumping skills are often called into question, but there's no question about the fact that this white girl really can't dance.

My ballet class, however, is going along quite swimmingly. We move slowly, and that is very very good. I love going to ballet, because I get to feel like a princess- all the movements are amazingly regal. I have never been a tomboy, so feelings of royalty are second nature for me. When I was little, I was the kid who always wanted to wear a dress and would "borrow" my brother's action figures so they could have the opportunity to come to my tea party, which I knew that they were dying to do after being locked up in that glass cabinet for so long. The pain that was inflicted when he found out where his figures went to is still unmatched. It was worth it though....

Another thought that has been niggling at the back of my mind recently stems from a technique instruction in my photography book. When discussing the proper way to focus a camera lens, it says, "Focus on the object of interest...." What an appealing thought. Life would be so much simpler if we all consciously set goals and priorities, then kept our life centered on the prize until it was achieved. All too often we are distracted from our greatest potential by frivolities and superficial hang-ups. I have decided that from now on my life will be focused on my goals, and the choices I make will be propelled by my priorities and principles.

So there.