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piper-mclean-rp:

deckatalent:

quezycoatl:

flutterbye-5:

You see these fuckers? They’re my pointe shoes. Now, I don’t know how much you guys know about ballet, but pointe is a style of ballet where the dancer dances on their toes. There’s a wooden box like thing on the tips, and is flat on the front, which makes us able to dance on our toes like we do. It’s called the box or platform. These shoes need to be the perfect size, otherwise the dancer can easily seriously hurt themselves. If the shoes are too small, their toes could break, but if they’re too big, they could snap their ankles. No two pairs of shoes are the same, so you can’t borrow anyone else’s. They need to be yours because otherwise the shoes won’t fit with your foot and how you dance. 
These shoes range from 50-85 dollars, depending on where you get them and what they’re made out of. They’re stiff as a board when you first get them, so you need to break them in. Breaking them in takes months. You have to dance in stiff, hard boxes until the shank and vamp finally takes to your foot. You will bleed. Some people actually cry because the pain of breaking the shoes in is so bad. Once they’re finally broken in, dancing in them is wonderful, even if it still hurts a little. But when they’re broken in, they only last a few more months until they fall apart completely. Then you need to get a new pair and break those in. 
In order to dance on these shoes, you need the proper cushioning for your toes, whether it be cotton, a soft gel slip over your toes, or wool. Your toenails need to be as short as you can make them, so that your nail can’t splinter and dig into your skin as you go up. Sometimes it happens anyway. Before a dancer can even consider dancing on the floor away from the bar, they need to practice for months, perfecting their balance, the set of their core, where their shoulders need to be, and how to go up. 
Going up is key to staying safe while dancing pointe. If you go up wrong, theres a 95% chance you will hurt yourself. To go up, you need to roll up from your heels to the tips of your toes, flat, and with precision. If you hop up, you’ll break your ankle. If you roll the wrong way, you’ll break your ankle. It literally needs to be perfect. Before leaving the bar, you need to be able to balance for about sixty seconds, to assure your instructor and yourself that you will be save doing forte turns and pirouettes, as well as gran-jete, glissade, leaps, and even waltzes. 
The next step is grace. You can’t blunder across the stage. You need to glide, flowing from each step to the other. The dance needs to look like a single step, moving continuously from each pose to another. Fingers need to be extended, necks elongated, shoulders down, chin up, stomach and butt tense and in, legs and back straight and toes pointed and turned out. The dance must always continue, even if you hurt yourself. If you can still move, you can still dance. If you’re bleeding in your shoe, there is no stopping and fixing it. You finish the dance and when it’s over you patch yourself up in the dressing room and continue on with your next dance if you have one. If you fall, you make it look like it was supposed to be in the dance. Your facial expressions and body need to reflect the music, so if you have a melancholy song, you must look forlorn, and depict it through your body and eyes, as well as the set of your mouth. Same as if your number was happy and upbeat, you need to reflect that. 
There are two major styles of ballet: Russian and Italian. An ideal ballerina knows both forms, and can tell the difference between the two. A dancer must follow the song with it’s beat as well, and the tempo can go from counts of four to sixteenth counts. 
Pointe dancers sometimes need to put resin on their shoes so that they don’t slip and risk breaking an arm, or even their neck. But if you put too much resin on, your shoes will stick, and you’ll fall while trying to turn. 
In conclusion, DANCE IS A FUCKING SPORT, OKAY? ESPECIALLY BALLET. WE RISK OURSELVES EVERY PRACTICE AND SHOW, SO DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING TELL ME THAT WHAT I DO ISN’T A SPORT. I PRACTICE FOR HOURS, JUST AS EVERY OTHER PERSON WHO PLAYS SOCCER OR FOOTBALL OR LACROSSE. I GET HURT AND I FALL AND I GET BRUISED AND I BREAK THINGS, JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE WHO PLAYS ALL THOSE OTHER FUCKING SPORTS. 
DANCE.
IS.
A.
SPORT.
So kindly fuck off if you think otherwise. 

Ballet is the most hardcore thing ever. People are all like “Oh football players are so tough!” Pbbbbt. Ballet dancers can dance through pain that would make a football player cry like a bitch.

This is true guys I attended a professional russian ballet school for 10 years of my life it’s so fucking true

Someone said it


The company I used to dance for had this competition called “Toe to Toe” where Cal Berkley athletes would come to our studio and compete with the members of the company in agility, strength, and speed. We’ve only lost once after 5+ years of holding the competition.

piper-mclean-rp:

deckatalent:

quezycoatl:

flutterbye-5:

You see these fuckers? They’re my pointe shoes. Now, I don’t know how much you guys know about ballet, but pointe is a style of ballet where the dancer dances on their toes. There’s a wooden box like thing on the tips, and is flat on the front, which makes us able to dance on our toes like we do. It’s called the box or platform. These shoes need to be the perfect size, otherwise the dancer can easily seriously hurt themselves. If the shoes are too small, their toes could break, but if they’re too big, they could snap their ankles. No two pairs of shoes are the same, so you can’t borrow anyone else’s. They need to be yours because otherwise the shoes won’t fit with your foot and how you dance. 

These shoes range from 50-85 dollars, depending on where you get them and what they’re made out of. They’re stiff as a board when you first get them, so you need to break them in. Breaking them in takes months. You have to dance in stiff, hard boxes until the shank and vamp finally takes to your foot. You will bleed. Some people actually cry because the pain of breaking the shoes in is so bad. Once they’re finally broken in, dancing in them is wonderful, even if it still hurts a little. But when they’re broken in, they only last a few more months until they fall apart completely. Then you need to get a new pair and break those in. 

In order to dance on these shoes, you need the proper cushioning for your toes, whether it be cotton, a soft gel slip over your toes, or wool. Your toenails need to be as short as you can make them, so that your nail can’t splinter and dig into your skin as you go up. Sometimes it happens anyway. Before a dancer can even consider dancing on the floor away from the bar, they need to practice for months, perfecting their balance, the set of their core, where their shoulders need to be, and how to go up. 

Going up is key to staying safe while dancing pointe. If you go up wrong, theres a 95% chance you will hurt yourself. To go up, you need to roll up from your heels to the tips of your toes, flat, and with precision. If you hop up, you’ll break your ankle. If you roll the wrong way, you’ll break your ankle. It literally needs to be perfect. Before leaving the bar, you need to be able to balance for about sixty seconds, to assure your instructor and yourself that you will be save doing forte turns and pirouettes, as well as gran-jete, glissade, leaps, and even waltzes. 

The next step is grace. You can’t blunder across the stage. You need to glide, flowing from each step to the other. The dance needs to look like a single step, moving continuously from each pose to another. Fingers need to be extended, necks elongated, shoulders down, chin up, stomach and butt tense and in, legs and back straight and toes pointed and turned out. The dance must always continue, even if you hurt yourself. If you can still move, you can still dance. If you’re bleeding in your shoe, there is no stopping and fixing it. You finish the dance and when it’s over you patch yourself up in the dressing room and continue on with your next dance if you have one. If you fall, you make it look like it was supposed to be in the dance. Your facial expressions and body need to reflect the music, so if you have a melancholy song, you must look forlorn, and depict it through your body and eyes, as well as the set of your mouth. Same as if your number was happy and upbeat, you need to reflect that. 

There are two major styles of ballet: Russian and Italian. An ideal ballerina knows both forms, and can tell the difference between the two. A dancer must follow the song with it’s beat as well, and the tempo can go from counts of four to sixteenth counts. 

Pointe dancers sometimes need to put resin on their shoes so that they don’t slip and risk breaking an arm, or even their neck. But if you put too much resin on, your shoes will stick, and you’ll fall while trying to turn. 

In conclusion, DANCE IS A FUCKING SPORT, OKAY? ESPECIALLY BALLET. WE RISK OURSELVES EVERY PRACTICE AND SHOW, SO DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING TELL ME THAT WHAT I DO ISN’T A SPORT. I PRACTICE FOR HOURS, JUST AS EVERY OTHER PERSON WHO PLAYS SOCCER OR FOOTBALL OR LACROSSE. I GET HURT AND I FALL AND I GET BRUISED AND I BREAK THINGS, JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE WHO PLAYS ALL THOSE OTHER FUCKING SPORTS. 

DANCE.

IS.

A.

SPORT.

So kindly fuck off if you think otherwise. 

Ballet is the most hardcore thing ever. People are all like “Oh football players are so tough!” Pbbbbt. Ballet dancers can dance through pain that would make a football player cry like a bitch.

This is true guys I attended a professional russian ballet school for 10 years of my life it’s so fucking true

Someone said it

The company I used to dance for had this competition called “Toe to Toe” where Cal Berkley athletes would come to our studio and compete with the members of the company in agility, strength, and speed. We’ve only lost once after 5+ years of holding the competition.

awwsheeit:

This always fucking gets me.

fill in the blanks
basics

1. name: Casey
2. birthday: September 7th
3. favorite color: Red
4. lucky number: 28
5. height: 5’8”

talents

1. last dream you remember: I was shopping with my male friends and was dating one of them. It was kind of uncomfortable. 
2. can you juggle: No
3. art/sports/both: Arts
4. do you like writing: Kinda.
5. do you like dancing: Yes. More than I should probably.
6. do you like singing: Does in the car count?

fantasize

1. dream vacation: Couch surfing around Europe. 
3. dream guy/gal: Tall, skinny, dark hair, with a degree in physics/math/engineering
4. dream wedding: late summer with a cream dress in a field with a kind of vintage-y sepia toned aesthetic.
5. dream pet: Big ass bunny rabbit.
6. dream job: Director of the CIA

1. favorite song: Dead Flag Blues by Godspeed!YBE
2. favorite album: In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by NMH
3. favorite artist: I have so many but atm it’s MadVillan
4. last song you heard on the radio: idk some mariachi song. (I like to blast it when I drive)
5. least favorite song: Public Affair by Jessica Simpson
6. least favorite album: The Scotch Tape by Timeflies
7. least favorite artist: PETER FUCKING GABRIEL 

preferences

1. guys/girls/both: y chromosomes
2. hair color: Dark Brown
3. eye color: Couldn’t care less. 
4. humorous/serious: Humorous
5. taller/shorter: I’m thinking Marfan’s tall.
6. biggest turn-off: Not believing in evolution
7. biggest turn-on: Being super smart but not being condescending about it.

rootless-cosmopolitan:

analogfantasy:

rootless-cosmopolitan:

alexandrakollontai:

mutilda:

today’s incredibly specific soviet poster of the day:
"Let’s execute the plan of cultivating citrus in new regions!" / 1950 [x]

citrus fruit propaganda


Fruit in the Soviet Union was no laughing matter. My mom has regaled me with stories of her childhood taking family vacations in warmer climates and shoving like ten pounds of citrus fruits into pockets and luggage and arms just to take on the train home, because fresh fruits were only sold in St. Petersburg like one month a year

My mom told me stories about getting an orange for Novy God and being excited about it, and I was like WTF, the Soviet Union sounds like the worst place ever.

ACTUALLY. But at least, for the most part, they didn’t know what they were missing? Like I remember when I was younger my mom was so amazed at how many brands america had for each item, she was like “in Russia we didn’t have all this choice! You went to the store to buy bread, you bought the one kind they had and you were happy they had it.”

rootless-cosmopolitan:

analogfantasy:

rootless-cosmopolitan:

alexandrakollontai:

mutilda:

today’s incredibly specific soviet poster of the day:

"Let’s execute the plan of cultivating citrus in new regions!" / 1950 [x]

citrus fruit propaganda

Fruit in the Soviet Union was no laughing matter. My mom has regaled me with stories of her childhood taking family vacations in warmer climates and shoving like ten pounds of citrus fruits into pockets and luggage and arms just to take on the train home, because fresh fruits were only sold in St. Petersburg like one month a year

My mom told me stories about getting an orange for Novy God and being excited about it, and I was like WTF, the Soviet Union sounds like the worst place ever.

ACTUALLY. But at least, for the most part, they didn’t know what they were missing? Like I remember when I was younger my mom was so amazed at how many brands america had for each item, she was like “in Russia we didn’t have all this choice! You went to the store to buy bread, you bought the one kind they had and you were happy they had it.”

bobbycaputo:

Booboo, the World’s Cutest Guinea Pig

Meet Booboo, a two-year old, female blond guinea pig (American crested) that belongs to photographer Megan van der Elst. Booboo lives with two other guinea pigs (Titi and Teddy).

The photographer has been posting photos of Booboo and her friends to deviantART and they can also be found on her recently launchedwebsite and Instagram account.

nevver:

Trinity - July 16th, 1945

thelindsaytuggey:

ME, AND YOU, AND ZABOOMAFOO!

vaginawoolf:

coolator:

i wanna be one of those people who does yoga at sunrise and drinks water out of mason jars filled with berries and twigs and shit

 

tomatogami:

ANOTHER INCREDIBLE FEAT ACHIEVED BY SCIENTISTS

YEAH HOW DARE SCIENTISTS BE PEOPLE AND OCCASIONALLY MAKE MISTAKES

becausebirds:

Owl in a towel.

becausebirds:

Owl in a towel.