I am horribly ashamed of myself. As of today, I can no longer say that I have never twerked. It wasn't exactly the Miley Cyrus kind, but there was definitely some awkward butt and B-girl crotch action. In my defence, it was not voluntary, but part of a routine by a visiting choreographer of the commercial Jazz style. If that's what it takes to make it commercially these days, I think it's very lucky that I'm aiming for music theatre. I felt both violated, and as if I had done some violating.
The rest of the day passed without any other major feelings of adding to the worlds culture issues, although I didn't seem to be able to make many positive impressions either. As I left the supermarket with my trolley, a young boy told his sister that if she didn't walk faster, then I would run her over. That's a pretty standard sort of threat I thought, because I'm pretty sure my dad has said the same kind of thing to me before, but the difference was, that this girl seemed genuinely terrified. She didn't stop running the rest of the way to the car, and kept looking back over her shoulder at me. I know I look a bit bedraggled and odd after class, but I didn't think that I looked like a troll.
I came home to work on my choreography home work, which requires us to base our movements around an object of our choosing, and me being me, I picked a wooden spoon. Despite all my best efforts, all I have ended up with so far are a few awkward hops, and a series of painful bruises. Hopefully that means I will at least get points for trying.
At the moment I'm watching SYTYCD, and making my landlords cookies for inviting me to dinner the other night, and just for being genuinely lovely people, but a lot of the dough seems to be disappearing before it makes the oven. How odd.
Xx, Little Duck
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