Ballet & Anger

I went to a ballet class today.

I was terrible. I even introduced myself to the teacher as "Hi, I'm Terrible."

I wanted to cry. I couldn't do the routine at the end of the class (it was far, far over my head), so I just watched. One of the long, lean ballet dancers was so nice, too. Gently, she said, "do you want to do it with me?" I replied, "I don't know what I'm doing, so I'll just watch". She tried to urge me on but by that time I was mentally exhausted.

I was frustrated at myself because I usually can fake my way through it. Yet I'm tired of faking. I want to stroll in, do the class, not have to think about the effing choreography, get better at it, and leave. I am so tired of being frustrated.

So I'm taking on a new challenge: Ballet every week. There are only three days I can go, so I'm going to shoot for two of those days. I am going to do this. I am going to get better.

The good news is, I was by far the absolute WORST one in class, so it can only get better!

And now, we shift to some anger problems.

The anger started this morning with myself. At myself. I was running late. WHY, at the age of 30 years old, have I not yet learned to manage my time wisely? Did I really have to spend ten minutes trying to fix my hair that was just going to get sweaty and pulled out of my face, anyway? And why on earth did I spend another ten minutes reading a magazine whilst sitting on the pot (after I had already finished?!) I knew I had to leave at 9:40 to get to class by 10:00. I ended up leaving at 9:52, audibly cursing my own name.

Still angry, I began to drive like a madwoman. Gotta get to Silverlake in eight minutes. I can do this! I passed by the gas station and saw that the price had risen to $4.63 a gallon.

"EVERY TIME I PASS YOU, YOU GET TEN CENTS HIGHER!!!" I screamed at the gas station sign. And then I stopped and realized that I was yelling at a gas station sign. I took that moment to laugh at myself and note that I needed to blog about my insanity later on.

My friend (who was meeting me at the ballet class) had given me directions to the dance studio and said it was "near the Trader Joe's" in Silverlake. Well, my favorite little nail salon is right next door to TJ's (mind you, getting my nails done is the ONLY luxury I afford myself; I feel like a pretty pretty princess when I have my nails done). I parked on the side street, dropped two quarters into the meter, put the third in my bag, and started speedwalking toward the direction of the studio.

I passed by the Trader Joe's, realizing that the address was in the 2800's and I needed to get to the 2300's. It was already 10 a.m -- thank you very much, I DID make it in eight minutes! -- but I had to walk about a mile!! Grrrr...my fault for parking so damn far away. But I wasn't about to lose my two quarters (CHEAP), so I booked it.

I passed a homeless woman with really nice silver hair. Silver hair in Silverlake. Lovely. Come to think of it, she might not have been homeless, but she was pushing a shopping cart and talking to herself. Anyway, she was fluffing that lovely silver hair in the a closed storefront's reflection as I passed by. She saw me in the refection, turned around and managed, "Do you have any spare change?"

Now, here's the thing. I DID have spare change, but I was late to this damn ballet class and I wasn't about to dig around in my bag for that last quarter to give to the Silver-haired Silverlake homeless woman. Under normal circumstances, I just might have stopped and given her the quarter. I had my wallet with me, as well, which consisted of a LOT of spare change: pennies, dimes, nickels, but quarters are a precious commodity in Los Angeles where every parking spot is metered or illegal.

Considering I was already late when I parked my car, and I now had another half mile to walk, I thought it extremely polite of me to even answer her.
"I'm sorry, I don't." I squished my face into a sympathetic expression and kept walking.

She yelled after me.

"JUST LIE TO ME AND KEEP SMILING! YOU LIED! YOU HAVE CHANGE!!!"

Anger boiled up inside of me. I stopped, whirled around, took a deep breath and SCREAMED. "I'M NOT LYING!"

...but I was lying. I totally, utterly, completely, 100% was lying. And Silverhaired Silverlake lady called me out on it.

Damn her. Damn that woman.

Damn me.