I can hardly walk today.
Maybe I should explain that statement. It's summertime, and half the people who normally attend dance class have better things to do with their summer evenings, so the class was only half full last night. In the wintertime the advanced class has about 15 people in it. Last night there were only 5 of us, and we're all the gluttons for punishment who keep coming back for more. She worked us hard, and then she worked us some more, and when I looked at the clock there was still an hour to go.

My thighs & feet feel like I ran a mile up hill carrying a 20 lb pack, barefoot. The dance studio hasn't cleaned the floor in a while, and we were doing lots of arabesque turns & quick step moves. I'll have sufficient callouses on my feet for when summer finally gets to Oregon... Ah but it feels wonderful.

Funny thing about dance, and about all art to some extent: there needs to be, obviously, a level of quality, some sort of agreed-upon standard, otherwise you end up with boring crap, exhibitionist sex, or gladiator games. Technique is essential-- I once had an art instructor tell me it's necessary to learn the anatomy of your subject and then forget it & simply draw it. Technique cannot stand alone; without a soul there's just a hollow shell. Which is why I think art entered into contests, or dancers competing for a title, is a poor manner of determining quality because art & art appreciation relies so heavily on personal interpretation.

I'm railing about this because there's a bellydance competition next weekend & it has been suggested I compete.

Let's take an art form and turn it into a cat show.

What does it profit a person to win or lose a competition if it's at the expense of passion, creativity, beauty, and soul?