Today, I took my picture for the senior class yearbook and as I was tilting my head in the opposite direction of my body, I realized that this may well be the last yearbook picture I ever take. Sure, I'll have my cap and gown picture after grad school, but I'll never have the "candid" school photo in front of the blue background that I won't be able to use for a passport picture ever again. I know that some people hate picture day, and really any kind of ceremony, but I've never been one of those people. I like to relish the specialness of things because I really am too sentimental for my own good. So I won't lie: the thought of this being my last formal picture in my last semester in college gave me pause. It also made the fact of my senior year in college so much more real and when it was over, it did make me a little sad. So will I be spending absurd amounts of money on these pictures in two weeks time? Probably.
I also danced for a Typhoon Relief Concert and ohmygoodness my body hurts so much. I've never done ribbon cold before, and I definitely should have practiced yesterday because at this moment, I can barely move my arms and neck. Even getting back to my room was a struggle and trying to eat was especially painful. But I'm in a nice comfy spot now, earphones in, avoiding the raging party currently going on in my common room. The ribbon dance I did inspired me to take on another daily theme, so here we go.
Daily Theme 2
Adopt a roving point of view and make a moving picture. You will need to decide how to establish the point of view. What does moving allow you to see that standing still doesn’t? What does it keep you from seeing?
The Stage
Shakespeare once said that the world is a stage, but for five minutes, the stage is my world. I can feel the grains of the wood beneath my feet as I step forwards, backwards, the lights hot against my face, obscuring my vision. The crowd is only a blur in front of me; they tell you to focus on one person during your performance, to make eye contact and to not let go, but when you're flowing across your world, trying to connect with every stranger in the sea of people, it's hard to recognize even your best friend. So I let my ribbons lead me instead.
People don't realize the dancing is as much of an act as acting. The face is incredibly important. A look in the wrong place can lead to a break in character. So when I dance in an ensemble, I see only through my peripheral vision. Flashes of chiffon jackets, moments of silk fans, the twirl of a ponytail that disappears in the next moment as I do my turn. For those few minutes, you must appear connected to the ensemble, but realize that it is impossible to actually see anyone if you are to appear as connected as you want the audience to think. As you fly across the stage, you envision the spot where you are to land, but to look at said spot shatters the illusion of whimsy, and as such, your eyes stare unblinkingly into nothing, past the audience, into the wings, too focused on the moment and unfocused on actually seeing anything.
When I dance a ribbon solo, however, I let my ribbons take over. The audience loves the ribbons as they are graceful, yet powerful, and as I spin across the stage, I cannot help but be enamored by them as well. They billow and swirl and in an instant, all I see is red, flowing, romantic, vibrant red. For five minutes, as I dance across my world, they are my sky, my earth, and my air. They follow me. And I follow them.
Note: I realize, after writing this, that what I wrote may not exactly follow the prompt, but hey, inspiration hits where it will. And...I'm not in the class. So there you go.
I also danced for a Typhoon Relief Concert and ohmygoodness my body hurts so much. I've never done ribbon cold before, and I definitely should have practiced yesterday because at this moment, I can barely move my arms and neck. Even getting back to my room was a struggle and trying to eat was especially painful. But I'm in a nice comfy spot now, earphones in, avoiding the raging party currently going on in my common room. The ribbon dance I did inspired me to take on another daily theme, so here we go.
Daily Theme 2
Adopt a roving point of view and make a moving picture. You will need to decide how to establish the point of view. What does moving allow you to see that standing still doesn’t? What does it keep you from seeing?
The Stage
Shakespeare once said that the world is a stage, but for five minutes, the stage is my world. I can feel the grains of the wood beneath my feet as I step forwards, backwards, the lights hot against my face, obscuring my vision. The crowd is only a blur in front of me; they tell you to focus on one person during your performance, to make eye contact and to not let go, but when you're flowing across your world, trying to connect with every stranger in the sea of people, it's hard to recognize even your best friend. So I let my ribbons lead me instead.
People don't realize the dancing is as much of an act as acting. The face is incredibly important. A look in the wrong place can lead to a break in character. So when I dance in an ensemble, I see only through my peripheral vision. Flashes of chiffon jackets, moments of silk fans, the twirl of a ponytail that disappears in the next moment as I do my turn. For those few minutes, you must appear connected to the ensemble, but realize that it is impossible to actually see anyone if you are to appear as connected as you want the audience to think. As you fly across the stage, you envision the spot where you are to land, but to look at said spot shatters the illusion of whimsy, and as such, your eyes stare unblinkingly into nothing, past the audience, into the wings, too focused on the moment and unfocused on actually seeing anything.
When I dance a ribbon solo, however, I let my ribbons take over. The audience loves the ribbons as they are graceful, yet powerful, and as I spin across the stage, I cannot help but be enamored by them as well. They billow and swirl and in an instant, all I see is red, flowing, romantic, vibrant red. For five minutes, as I dance across my world, they are my sky, my earth, and my air. They follow me. And I follow them.
Note: I realize, after writing this, that what I wrote may not exactly follow the prompt, but hey, inspiration hits where it will. And...I'm not in the class. So there you go.
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