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 …show more content…
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 …show more content…
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
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?
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.
The DJ had already started the music. Instead of just standing there I started to clear my head, shake my hands and get ready to do the thing I loved most - put on a show. I did pretty good considering I was only seven and by the time i was finished showing off my skills all my doubts were gone because I knew that I had done my very best and left my hard work on the stage.
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.
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
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 entered the theater with my mom and was overwhelmed with joy. I couldn't believe that I would be dancing at Symphony Space. I looked around and felt very confident. I did my makeup and hair, put on my costume and got warmed up for the run through of my solos on stage. During the run through they played the wrong version of my music but I had no choice other than to dance to it because I had to get the feeling of the stage. Once the run through was finished, I packed all of my costumes and headed home. I had a snack and went to sleep while my mom was getting my costumes ready for this significant
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
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 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.
As I continued the dance my foot started hurting more and more. Everything I did hurt. Maybe I just twisted it badly. So I danced through the pain, even though I felt like crying.
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.
Waiting backstage with nerves tingling down my spine, hoping I perform well, as I watch the other performers casing weathering they’re competition or not for now most of them I have nothing to worry about. I hear the judges call out in the microphone , “ next up Kylee Murawski with a teen jazz solo” now i'm getting clammy hands But I know now it's time to focus and do well. I walk out on stage seeing all the people in the audience clapping. Finally the music starts and I start to dance i'm making sure everything’s perfect. Fast as light the music’s over and everyone’s cheering. I peer down to the Judges to see if their facial expression shows if they liked it or not. I walk off with a beaming smile knowing I did my best also that I gave an
“ 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
“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.”