So my tap recital is tonight. We are doing a number from a well-known Broadway musical about a nanny with magical powers, which I will not name because the last time I got all detail-y about my tap recital, someone in my tap class found my blog–but suffice it to say that we are all dressed like chimney sweeps. (That’s probably still a little too detail-y, but I’m living life on the edge these days.) We look adorable, thanks for asking.
Dress rehearsal was on Tuesday, and it went well enough–except that during our second run-through, I dropped my broom. So humiliating! I mean, brooms were dropping right and left–like flies!–during the first couple weeks of rehearsals, but to drop a broom at this juncture is just embarrassing, not to mention anxiety-making. When I am not physically practicing my routine, I am doing it in my head, and all I can think about is DON’T DROP THE BROOM, DUMMY! because to drop the broom during the actual performance would be a disaster. Not for the entire ensemble, necessarily, but certainly for me, and I’m not into personal disasters any more than group disasters.
You may ask, “Well, what’s the big deal? You drop a broom, just pick it up and keep going, no one will notice.” But it’s not that simple! The broom is an integral part of the routine! When I dropped it on Tuesday, it went skidding across the floor; a fellow (sister) tapper kicked it back over my way, but it landed under another dancer’s feet. By the time I retrieved it, it was all over but the crying. Am I making it more dramatic than it really was? Yes. I didn’t cry, for one thing. I didn’t even feel like crying. I just felt kind of foolish–which I still don’t enjoy, by the way. Don’t minimize my pain! We artistes are very sensitive.
So I’ve already postulated that the dress-rehearsal broom-dropping was just the Bad Luck Thing that had to happen in order to ensure a smooth performance on the Big Night, which is tonight, but a part of me just isn’t buying it. Believe me, I know that the more I think about it, the more likely I am either to make the same mistake or be so focused on not making the same mistake that I make some other, more egregious and mortifying mistake. So it’s not like I’m thinking about it on purpose. But the more I think about not thinking about it, the more I think about it! So you see my dilemma, meine Kinder. (No, it isn’t a Sound of Music piece. Nanny, not governess. Magic, not Nazis.) Well, I guess the only thing to do is take my mind off it by eating a lot of Cheetos. If only I had some Cheetos! O bitter irony!
Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for you people today. I would appreciate it if you’d send your sticky-broom vibes my way. I don’t want the broom too sticky because I have to toss it around a little, but I just need it to stay in the general vicinity of my person. Also, I don’t want the bristles to get stuck on my clothes like they’ve been doing lately. That is annoying. So, you know, if you could say a prayer, light a candle, and/or sacrifice a chicken on my behalf, that would be appreciated. Then I will just relax and not worry about the broom thing and feel free to screw up in some other, hopefully less-noticeable fashion. Thank you.