Reaches one hand out from under rock to type blog entry

Ugh, man. Just ugh.

It’s probably that so many good things in my life have happened in miraculous, easy ways. I’m not bemoaning that luck, no sir. But it does mean that when things get crappy it can FEEL like total crapfest. Just, well, like crap.

It was a really rough belly dance class last night. Mainly because we started in on using finger cymbals. The thing was, the addition of the cymbals was supposed to be challenging. But here I was still hoping to practice the basic stuff—still finding THAT challenging enough, and then crazy freaking cymbal time! And I decided to be brave and switch to wearing a sports bra so that I could get my motions more correct. And lord did I need correcting. Every drill, it felt like I was the only one getting corrected. Getting pulled aside, slowing down the class. . .

After a good crying fit and full night’s sleep, I recognize that:
1. It’s ok if I just focus on the movements and hold the cymbals.
2. It’s really good that I switched over to belly-baring attire, because if that part really is incorrect, it shows and now I’ll get it fixed.
3. If I was really slowing down the class, I have to believe that the teacher would tell me to drop down to beginner again. I don’t have the skill or experience to make that decision, but certainly she does.
4. Andy regaled me with stories of Ballroom Dance classes where even though other people were doing the moves poorly, he’d get all the criticism in the class, perhaps because they believed he’d benefit most from it. Maybe I get lots of criticism because there’s some indication I’ll listen and improve from it. Even if this isn’t true, I’m going to try to believe it.

The class is good for me, but man did my ego take a big swat! It’s for my own good, and I want to get better. But in the mean time, I’ll just feel a little wilted and crappy . . .