Y’all know I’ve been getting frustrated with pole. I feel like I’ve hit a wall–I’m bored with what I know, but I’m just not building the strength for the intermediate moves I keep encountering. Aerial inverts have been wrenching my already iffy lower back, while slipping and sliding and just trying to stay off the ground while learning stuff has just been overwhelming on top of the new skill.
Layer that with the additional constant pressure to “know this by now” because I’ve poled for a while and you get this face:
😐
So instead, I’ve been trying to build my strength and flexibility through other means–hoping to return back to pole with some new skills and a different outlook in a bit. Right now I’m doing flex, ballet, and my long lost friend…
….HOOP!
OMG HOOP.
Reasons I love hoop:
1. So much to hang on to. Are you kidding me? The best. You can also sit and rest between moves. Are. You. Serious.
2. Very similar moves and muscle groups as pole, but without the slipping/smashing/indian burn issues (I’ve bruised a little on the bum bum and behind the knees from the pressure but it’s really not the same as those screaming friction feels from pole).
3. I’m totally new at it so there’s no pressure to be amazing/no progress shaming
It’s also really refreshing to take a break from super sexy. I’m feeling the lyrical flow of hoop, and it’s the MOST satisfying pay off for my work in ballet and flex.
Ahhhhh, just thinking about it makes me feel relaxed and so much happier. Not that it’s not hard work–it’s just the work without all the emotional baggage that’s built up for me with pole. And it feels great!
I’ll be you guys thought this was going to be about depression but no–it’s about a show I’m getting ready for that’s based on Dante’s Divine Comedy, and guess what part our piece is about?
THE INFERNO.
Full disclosure: I have kind of hated every minute of learning this. It’s hard on your body (lots of stomping, neck circling, hunching, flopping, and spasming), and our “motivations” are really disgusting.
At varying times in the piece, these are the cues we’ve been given:
-“You’re puking in your hands here.”
-“You’re being electrocuted”
-“Satan is throwing you.”
-“Something is impaling you here (*gestures towards crotch*) and the it comes up and out of your mouth.”
-“You’re being stabbed.”
-Etc, etc, etc.
We’ve also been encouraged to think about our own version of “personal hell” for extra emotional motivation.
Of course Dani, who’s a friend as well as a teacher, called me out in class: “Cathy’s version of personal hell, for example, would be an eternity of hearing “Hey Cutie” on OkCupid.”
I had to agree with her.
(Quick slideshow of my personal hell: men in NYC.)
…and yet I still keep getting this message.
autocorrect?
“moments” are interesting things.
I took this photo while standing with several bags and glaring.
Anyway, we all feel kind of awkward acting this stuff out, but we taped the piece for the first full run through last night and I have to admit–it looks pretty creepy.
In other news: my favorite pole teacher has been on hiatus, so, after another bad intermediate class, I decided to focus on ballet barre and flex training as well as this Bellyqueen show for the time being. I hope she comes back soooooon!
And if you’re in the New York City area on March 29th/are really into demonic interpretive dance, here’s a link to more info on the full show! https://www.facebook.com/events/522870131186017/
Saw this and choked on my tea: http://www.xojane.com/issues/gym-mansplaining
Not much I can say any better than Pia did (she really sets the scene for the rage well haha), but something similar completely happened to me a couple of months ago and actually caused me to stop stretching at the gym for a few weeks.
can you… not?
I was on my back using a towel to pull one of my feet for a hamstring stretch. I like to use a towel because it gets a lot of grip over a sock, and if you position it right in the arch of your foot, you can pull both sides of the towel help rotate your leg in and out of a turn-out from the hip (something I’m always working on!).
So I’m on my back, don’t-talk-to-me-earbuds firmly in place, crotch fully exposed to the world because yeah, I’m trying to pull my leg to my face, it happens, and I see this dude.
He does pretty much what Pia described: this obnoxious arm wave like he needs to tell me the building is on fire.
I drop the towel, sit up, and take an earbud out of my ear. “You should use a yoga strap for that,” he says.
Um.
um.
Like Pia, I also had a waaaaaaah moment and checked his shirt thinking he must have been a trainer. Nope. Just an entitled white dude who felt the need to insert himself into my day.
I think I just kind of choked out a “no thank you” (because, why is this person invading my space to insert their opinion on my stretching technique?) and he shrugged and walked away.
Pia and I have similar “WHY ARE YOU DOING DIS” faces.
But my fear of stretching in publicremains.
Someone tell me: WHY IS THIS A THING?
It’s bros like this that scare me out of doing anything on the pull up bar, even though I really want to.
Have you guys ever had an experience like this? How did you handle it?\
Are men just being helpful? Trying to flirt? What’s going on here, for real?
I just discovered this show. Not really feeling the fake mom drama/bickering/blahbityblah, but the dancing? The pressure? The real talk on technique? Yasssssssss.
Deep thoughts I had while watching Dance Moms for the first time, in no particular order… with some Abby Lee gifs to help illustrate my feelings.
1. Fuck you, mom, for not putting me in dance classes from age 3. I could have had my splits 20 years ago.
2. Actually I’m sorry mom, dance classes like these probably would have made me hate dancing and would have crowded out all other interests in my life. 7 hours a day? Like seriously?
3. If I were a child, I would find it really confusing to see two authority figures screaming at each other in front of me.
4. Maddie. Wow. It’s beyond technique. This kid just speaks movement, fluently.
5. I feel like there’s a lot of life lessons happening on this show, that I wish I would have learned earlier. For example: corrections aren’t personal–the move should be what the move is intended to be. If you don’t perform it properly, you’ll get corrected. No reason to catch hurt feelings.
6. I feel like it’s the job of families of kids who perform like this to remind them that they’re important as a person outside of dance–but not to contradict corrections they’re getting (ie. “You’re dancing PERFECTLY, your teacher doesn’t know what she’s talking about”). I think kids are tough enough to handle picky corrections on one thing (like dance) if they have a strong support system reminding them that they’re worthy and loved for 100 other reasons (outside of how well they do that one skill).
7. Like, Maddie though. Are you serious? And her attitude is so killer too. I feel like I could learn a lot from how this kid operates–rolling with the punches, trying her hardest for simple the love of doing it right (not to win approval, etc), being fearless.
Let’s take a moment and appreciate her.
8. Don’t argue with your teacher. She’s right. Even if she’s being mean about it. Kendall, you ARE sticking your rib cage out.
9. Accept what looks like a loss gracefully. When Maddie was passed over for the starring spot of a music video (one that required more posing than dancing), she actually won the opportunity to dance her butt off throughout the whole thing–which was a spotlight on her true talent. Because she kept a good attitude, she danced beautifully and in my opinion, totally stole the show.
u mad?
10. It’s a long game–win or lose competition to competition, dedication to clean technique, hard work, and pure enjoyment of dancing wins over time. Again, totally obsessed with Maddie and it’s showing, but, you can tell watching this kid that dancing naturally feels great and right to her. You can’t hold that kind of talent and attitude down. It’s just too fun to watch.
Other notes from the week: I tried spinning for the first time. My ass is KILLING me (those seats are really hard) but so are my quads, thus I’m thinking this might be good cross-training for improving my extensions.… a never-ending project.
How’s everybody? Did we all catch Leigh Ann killing it over at PopSugar? Totally doing this workout at home on Saturdays when I’m too lazy to go to the studio.
Also, love these guys proving that just because we make it look easy doesn’t make it so.
Needed a break from pole so I tried an intro to hoop class at B&P. So much fun! We ran out of time for videos of the combo we learned, but our teacher Brenna was nice enough to let me get a clip of the flip we’d just learned!
I was searching through my Google documents for something, and this title: “Jokes We Made During My Mother’s Kidney Infection.”
If you’ve been reading for a while, you’ll remember that my mom was very sick last January.
Well, my family isn’t really accustomed to serious stuff. Not to jinx us, but, we’re a pretty tough bunch, and we haven’t had anything too terrible happen to us until this. My mom hadn’t even been in a hospital since being in the maternity ward to have my little sister. So, we were pretty shaken up.
Dad entertaining Julia
As true Kellys, though, (my dad’s Irish side of the family), we joked our way through the crisis. Especially once we knew what the problem was (my mom was very, very sick for about 12 hours before they figured out it was a kidney stone and infection). It’s easier to laugh when you know things will be okay.
I remember being on the train on the way back to New York, happy that my mom was better, but truly shaken up by everything that had happened. I didn’t want to actively recall anything frightening–like seeing my mom cry for the first time in years, because she was in so much pain. But I did want to write down details. I wanted to remember, so I could stay in the state of enlightenment I was in, which the realization that my family is precious, and that I wouldn’t have them forever… that the feeling of permanence and security I’ve always viewed my family with is actually… not permanent and secure.
So I wrote down the jokes we told each other.
You’d probably have to know my family for any of these jokes to be funny. You’d need to know that my dad says outrageous things just for effect. And that my mom is very reserved and school teacher, and never swears.
You’d need to know that my mom tries to be low-maintenance, but that my dad is pretty much helpless when she tries to give him a simple task, and that quietly drives her crazy. You’d need to know that my mom always, always finds something to worry about in my life for me.
Anyway, these cracked me up, I wanted to share:
——
Jokes We Made During My Mother’s Kidney Infection
Dad and Uncle Bob pretending to be serious
Mom to Uncle Bob: “Did you find your way around the hospital okay?”
Uncle Bob: “Oh yeah, Linda and I have been here before. We ate at the cafeteria for dinner once.”
Mom: “Oh, who were you visiting?”
Uncle Bob: “Nobody. But they’ve got spaghetti and meatballs, two dollars a plate!”
Mom: “You just came here for dinner?”
Uncle Bob: “Carol, two people can eat for four dollars.”
Dad to Mom about getting her stent removed: “You don’t need an appointment for that. I’ve got a vice grip at home.’
Drumming
Dad, in the cafeteria: “What if this happened while we were snowshoeing? Wouldn’t that be terrible? I’d have to carry your mother out of the woods. I’d have to tie our snow shoes together and strap her to it like a sled, and pull her out of the woods!”
Rachel: “That’s really dramatic, dad.”
Mom, in a text message: “Don’t bring me any food from dinner, everything tastes like mud.”
Dad, in a text message: “Well how about some mud then? Just a big plate of mud.”
Me to mom about the multiple yellow vases her flowers came in: “I hope you like yellow!”
My dad “playing croquet”
Dad: “Of course she does, it reminds her of her urinary tract!”
Dad to Mom, in her gurney on the 2nd floor: “How did you get up here?”
Mom: “We took the stairs.”
Dad, about the woman talking loudly behind us in the cafeteria: “Let’s get the waiter. Oh waiter! I’d like to purchase that woman a hot steaming mug of shut up!”
Mom to Dad, about how he drinks soda and coffee but no water, and didn’t get kidney stones, and how unfair that is: “I mean, it’s not exactly like I’d wish this on you or anything…”
Dad: “This is how we know you’re getting better, you’re a pain in my ass again.”
Mom: “This bed is like a deluxe coffin.”
Rachel: “…Mom!”
Mom about the nurse who suggested she watch The Bachelor: “Who wants to see that show? It’s always a bitch and a bastard.”
Me: “Mom!”
Mom: “What? It is.”
Dad, to me: “I can’t sleep without your mother. I’m having the craziest dreams. Last night I dreamed that this old hippy guy with a ponytail I used to work with came to the house and I let him in and he started yelling, “You don’t know what it’s like out there for people like me!”
“And then your mother stuffed his mouth with those pull tabs from tax envelopes and put his head between the two couches like a vice and sat on him.”
Me: “What the hell, dad…”
Dad: “I need your mother around, she’s got that prison training*!”
(*Note: my mom is a schoolteacher in a prison)
Mom, waking up from a dead sleep when I’m quietly talking to Dad about my new job: “You mean you haven’t been paid yet?”
Me: “Mom, we weren’t even talking about that. Are you worrying about me in the hospital right now?”
Mom: “Never mind that—you haven’t been paid for a month?!”
Everyone: “Mom… I know you’re really sick and all, but your hair looks fantastic.”
Dad, once we’re home: “I’m going to make your bed up for you with fresh sheets! Which ones would you like?”
Mom: “Oh anything.”
Dad: “Which ones? The yellow?”
Mom: “Sure, the mustard yellow knit. Anything.”
Dad, walking in with sheets: “These it?”
Mom: “That’s not the knit, it’s the percale!”
Dad: “I don’t know what percale is!”
Dad to Mom’s doctor in the ER: “You should know, we had the same meal last night.”
Doctor: “…it’s not that.”
Okay that’s everything, copy and pasted directly from the word document I wrote it in in January. Hope you don’t think we’re all terrible people!! (We probably are).
I meant this to be a post about my mom, but writing it down, I realized it’s actually about how I don’t know how I would ever get through anything like this again without my dad keeping everyone laughing.
My beauty routine now involved wetting a q-tip and polishing the stone after I powder my face.
It’s cute though, right?
I should note that I only got this because, on a trip to the mall to get my glasses adjusted (an appropriate activity for someone who is almost thirty), my little sister announced that we were making a pit stop to get her nose pierced. And she did (she’s 25… I protested a little, but hey, she’s an adult and it’s her face). The thing is… it looked so cute that I got mine done on the spot.
Spoiler alert: it does not feel like a “little pinch” to get your nose pierced.
It feels like a metal rod is being pushed through your cartilage, and it takes several excruciating seconds.
Nobody told me that it wouldn’t hurt, but, ya know, I figured I’m Pole Strong (TM) so it wouldn’t bother me. Lol yeah it hurt so bad.
Again, cute though, right? I was thinking that I would immediately regret it, but actually, I’m in love. It’s pretty (SPARKLES) but a little edgy, just like me. The edgy part anyway.
Okay okay, so here’s some obligatory Thanksgiving pictures of The Baby, who now says the word “Cat” which I’ll go ahead and assume is an attempt at Cathy (IN YO FACE, “mama” and “dada”!)
Please note her exasperation with my sister’s posing as she waits for more yogurt to enter her face. This kid. Love her.
…MOAR YOGURT.
Everybody have a good thanksgiving? Are we all getting appropriately, seasonally fat?
Here’s a song I just found and can’t wait to try on the pole, ps–acoustic version of Running, Jessie Ware. DAMN can this woman sing.
Some spacing issues buuuuut, not bad for how nervous we were! 😀
Really excited for the next show because our new choreo is inspired by the gang (lite) movie The Warriors, and our custom is basically tribal fusion street wear (re: black pants and BASEBALL CAPS, wheeeee). Of course I was thrilled about this because it’s just the excuse I needed to own snapback… which I immediately bought from a street vendor two blocks away from the studio on the way home from rehearsal. THAT IS HOW EXCITED I WAS TO BUY A SNAPBACK.
It feels really good to finally own some Brooklyn swag because I’ve earned it. This fall marks my 8th anniversary in BK… and I have yet to live in Williamsburg, Prospect Park, or Park Slope! (So far it’s been Bed Stuy (2 places), Clinton Hill, Fort Greene (but like, the bad side of Myrtle), Sunset Park/Borough Park (where I famously got groped), and finally, Bay Ridge).
Oh, this is off topic, but ALSO on my home last night (after my snapback purchase) I saw this severely-injured looking mannequin at a TopShop in Soho. Like, what happened here?
It’s not 1994 anymore, why are we still seeing Skeletors in store windows? Just saying.
I don’t know about you guys, but I really can’t afford their normal $40/1.5 hour class rate, so I am ALL OVER IT.
Also, out of towners–they do “staycation” packages where you can train as much as you want during a weeklong visit, and THAT is on sale too. Worth looking into!
Truly excellent post from a friend about catcalling below. She wrote this before The Video came out, which makes it even harder to dismiss.
I think what people miss about “sweet” comments is that they’re never really about us as women, or making us feel good. It’s just marking territory: this is my domain, and you’re trespassing, so I’m going to let you know I’m the one in control here.
Why is it so much easier to believe that women are too stupid to know when they’re being complimented than it is to believe that “sweet” comments are intimidating and MEANT to intimidate?
I have so many strong feelings about this (having been harassed almost every day I have ever left my house for 8 years in New York) that it’s hard not to ramble. But I will say that, for how vocal men have been about their “right” to “say hello,” I find it hard to believe that any man could feel good about hearing “You have a good day sweetheart” 12 times a day from a bunch of leering strangers for the rest of his life.
So why is it so hard for us as a society to categorize this as wrong?
Why are we so quick to tell women they’re mistaken about feeling hassled, intimidated, and yes, harassed?
Finally: can we all acknowledge how ludicrous it it to call it “saying hello” when we know damn well a dude would never DARE pull this on another dude? Slow clap for this hashtag….
Ladies: when someone tells you that street harassment is actually a compliment, they are telling you to shut up. Never shut up.
Originally posted on a blog from yesteryear, I unearthed a beauty of a post on a subject that is receiving a lot of responses lately thanks to the video above. I’ve come across facebook posts where folks are trying to open up earnest conversations about why “God Bless You” and “Have a Nice Day” are considered harassment, and I’ve seen videos of men telling women they’re thinking about it wrong and they should be thrilled to be receiving compliments. I’m happy that some people are taking the time to analyze the issue, and I dreadfully disappointed that there are men and women who fail to analyze AND empathize. See below:
The Spin Diaries: Your Guide to Everything Pole and Aerial 