It's not you, it's me.

Dear Dr. Pepper and Coca-Cola Companies,

I regret to inform you of a decision that has recently been made that may affect your revenue and bottom-line projections for the foreseeable future. Despite being an avid supporter and frequent customer of your diet beverages for the past fourteen years (and of your non-diet beverages for years before that), I have decided to go a different direction with my life, or at least, the beverage drinking aspects of my life.

It's not you, it's me. I hope you believe me when I say that I have the utmost respect for you and what you offer to the public. Long have I defended you against the slanderous cries of naysayers on health-themed witch hunts. Long have I refused to put stock in the rumors perpetrated against that sweet sweet aspartame.

More than once have I turned towards your products in a time of need looking for comfort and consolation, and they did not disappoint. You've always been there for me, but I'm afraid that I can't be there for you anymore.

The simple truth of the matter is that I just love your sodas too much. I can't get enough of them. To quote Singin' in the Rain, if I may, "All I do is dream of you the whole night through. With the dawn, I still go on dreaming of you. You're every thought, you're everything, you're every song I ever sing. Summer, Winter, Autumn, and Spring."

I love them so much that it hurts. Sometimes literally, sometimes not. Sometimes to the point where I get frequent headaches - either from not drinking any water and being dehydrated or from going a day without soda and suffering from caffeine withdrawal. Other times, just so far as to make any excuse to get myself a soda - usually resulting in me buying fast food meals that I don't particularly want just because I didn't have any sodas at home.

I've grown dependent on those cans and bottles and have finally realized that that's an unhealthy relationship to be in.

And so, after much deliberation and soul-searching, I think it would be best for me to cut my ties completely.

Someday, maybe, I'll be able to reintroduce your delicious beverages into my life again without going overboard, but for the time being, I think it's safest if I kept my distance.

I'll miss you.

XOXO,

Jenny


P.S. Don't worry, in all likelihood, I'll be back soon.



Do you have any not-actually-that-terrible vices that you're trying to give up? Have you questioned why Dr. Pepper and Coca-Cola would read a letter together? Is there any situation in life to which Singin' in the Rain doesn't pertain?

And for your entertainment, the youtube clip of the aforementioned song from Singin' in the Rain.

"When you jump, try to keep your feet on the ground." What?

After spending years trying desperately to emulate ballet in my dancing (first in ballet, then in drill team, and even a little bit in swing dance (ah, the beauty of proper spotting)), it is very difficult for me to hear "you dance like a ballerina" and not take it as a compliment. But it's not... at least not in tap class anyway.

In tap class, "dancing like a ballerina" means that I'm too rigid, too structured, and working too hard for too little payoff. It means that I'm putting all the strain of every move on my weakest muscles, and making things much more difficult on myself. Basically, it means that I keep trying to point my toes.

I didn't even realize I was doing that at first! I had no idea that I was treating every shuffle and flap like a high kick (without the kicking high part)! Even had I known, I wouldn't have had the slightest inkling that that could be detrimental to my dancing. When Keira started teaching our class, though, she noticed right away the egregious error I'd been making, and tried to instill in me the proper technique. "In tap dance," she said, "you want to keep your ankles and toes as relaxed as possible. All of your movement should be coming from the top of your leg."

Even after being called out in class about it, I didn't think that pointing my toes or relaxing my ankles would make all that much of a difference, so while I tried to tap properly when I thought about it, I didn't work too hard on re-wiring my brain. That was all well and good when it came to shuffles and flaps. Worst case scenario, I would get tired out faster or maybe miss a couple sounds... not too bad. Then, we started learning pull-backs.

I don't just love this routine because
of the plaid suits, I promise!

Pull-backs are a tap dance step that involves jumping up into the air, tapping the ground with the balls of your feet whilst in the air, then landing on the balls of your feet. When done correctly, it will make two sounds. It's the gateway step to dynamic tap dancing; without it, there is little to no hope of dancing like Gene Kelly and Donald O'Conner as they performed "Fit as a Fiddle" in Singing in the Rain (which may or may not be a personal dream of mine). Though we started learning this step months ago, I never was able to do it correctly until last week. Why? Because my feet were always pointed when I'd jump.

I thought I'd tried everything to get them. I tried lifting my toes before I jumped so that they'd just brush back (which apparently is TERRIBLE technique, even though that's how our first instructor taught us to do it... w (for whatevs)). I tried jumping higher, then when that didn't work, jumping lower. I even tried following my classmate's advice, which was "when you jump, try to keep your feet on the ground." But what did I never try? Paying attention to whether my feet were pointed or not.

Pull-back instructions courtesy of the United Taps Tap Dance Forum

So finally, after a lot of frustrating hours and embarrassing attempts, I made a conscious effort to relax my ankles. Immediately, I was able to do pull-backs across the floor as if they were the easiest thing in the world.


Tl;dr: Always listen to your teachers, especially if you're a stubborn jerk like me.



Did you ever learn the hard way that dancing like a ballerina is not always a compliment? If it was when you tried incorporating arabesques and pirouettes into your krumping, will you please tell me all about it?! Does anyone else feel like a frog when doing pull-backs across a floor?



And for your enjoyment, here is a clip from Robin Hood: Men in Tights that I stole off the internet. I think it's the only routine I've seen that has been able to successfully mix hip hop and ballet.