Writer's Block: Roll the dice
I grew up without any of the common superstitions. In fact, all of my superstitions were made up by yours truly. Yes, I was a strange, imaginative kid. I could remember being a five, six year old recoiling whenever someone I didn't aspire to be like touched me. I felt that by touching me they stole my energy and thus, I lost a little bit of myself in them. Of course, it took a while for me to decide whether or not I liked them so, in some way, I guess this was true. They were stealing my energy. Their very presence was a drain on what I was and what I would become. In some way, they were shaping me. So, to protect myself from what I perceived to be a thief of my personality I had a short ritual of sorts to regain my lost energy. I kept it short for a few reasons- believing that the ritual would be less effective the greater the distance between us and so their stolen energy would remain with them and second because I felt more myself afterwards. It was reassuring that I could control myself, that I had control of who I was to become and over how they affected me.
Anyways, lucky number. When I was younger my friends always had a lucky number, a lucky stuffed animal, a lucky this and a lucky that and, often times, I'd play along knowing full well that if I didn't I would be shunned (Elementary school, vicious time man, vicious). So, I'd say my favorite number was this number or that number-- keeping my fake numbers in mind so I wouldn't cause alarm by changing them later and making sure that if I did change the number between people those people didn't talk with each other (Yes, even as a youngin' I was a strategist. I'm so strange...). Finally, in eighth grade I tried out for a dance team. I had never done any dance other than ballet and I was very nervous. Everyone else seemed to know the owner of the studio while I, the newcomer, stood on the sidelines awkward and wearing the standard Cecchetti black leotard, pink tights and leather Blochs. Everyone else was twirling around with grand smiles in tie-dye cut offs and jazz shoes, moving their hips in ways I felt certain I couldn't. Everything is so precise in ballet and, additionally, I didn't know any of the fancy tricks they knew. I couldn't do a triple pirrouette-- nevermind the fact that they were doing it wrong- leaning back on their weight and hoisting themselves up with their shoulders (surely they would get hurt sometime- I thought.*)
*side note: Cecchetti always purposefully imposes a sense of needed arrogance on its dancers
Soon, my number was called- in groups at first and then in singles. So, I went up to the front mirror, decisively inspecting the large 5 hastily safety pinned to the front of my leotard. First we went through a set of moves. She showed us twice, we copied. Then, at the end, to my chagrin she asked us to freestyle alone. Sure, I had done a little bit when I was younger-- Mrs. Berstch, my ballet teacher, used to let us dance around holding airy scarves and wearing skirts if we performed particularly well--- but nothing like this. Nothing with mixed dance. I took a deep breath, and stepped out feeling the eyes of the other girls, realizing that they were inspecting me in many ways, sizing up my potential and waited for the music. I don't have much memory of the moves I did, my nerves made everything blurry.
Once I finished, I stood back and watched the other girls in urn. Noting their creativity or lack thereof and calculating my chances of getting on the team. Long story long (get it?), I made it! I'm sure you all could have predicted that as you probably guessed that 5 is my lucky number.
Yep, that's the story. I don't apply it very much but it's a solid answer for when people ask. I guess the only truly "lucky" thing I have is my spoon ring. I made it when I was very little. I tell everyone that I anticipated my hands growing and, therefore, made it big enough for a future self but, the truth is, I just got tired of hammering. Yep, I have a spoon ring that I made. It's pretty cool. Maybe, I'll upload a picture later.
Sorry for the spam guys but, I guess it just feels nice to be back. :D
Anyways, lucky number. When I was younger my friends always had a lucky number, a lucky stuffed animal, a lucky this and a lucky that and, often times, I'd play along knowing full well that if I didn't I would be shunned (Elementary school, vicious time man, vicious). So, I'd say my favorite number was this number or that number-- keeping my fake numbers in mind so I wouldn't cause alarm by changing them later and making sure that if I did change the number between people those people didn't talk with each other (Yes, even as a youngin' I was a strategist. I'm so strange...). Finally, in eighth grade I tried out for a dance team. I had never done any dance other than ballet and I was very nervous. Everyone else seemed to know the owner of the studio while I, the newcomer, stood on the sidelines awkward and wearing the standard Cecchetti black leotard, pink tights and leather Blochs. Everyone else was twirling around with grand smiles in tie-dye cut offs and jazz shoes, moving their hips in ways I felt certain I couldn't. Everything is so precise in ballet and, additionally, I didn't know any of the fancy tricks they knew. I couldn't do a triple pirrouette-- nevermind the fact that they were doing it wrong- leaning back on their weight and hoisting themselves up with their shoulders (surely they would get hurt sometime- I thought.*)
*side note: Cecchetti always purposefully imposes a sense of needed arrogance on its dancers
Soon, my number was called- in groups at first and then in singles. So, I went up to the front mirror, decisively inspecting the large 5 hastily safety pinned to the front of my leotard. First we went through a set of moves. She showed us twice, we copied. Then, at the end, to my chagrin she asked us to freestyle alone. Sure, I had done a little bit when I was younger-- Mrs. Berstch, my ballet teacher, used to let us dance around holding airy scarves and wearing skirts if we performed particularly well--- but nothing like this. Nothing with mixed dance. I took a deep breath, and stepped out feeling the eyes of the other girls, realizing that they were inspecting me in many ways, sizing up my potential and waited for the music. I don't have much memory of the moves I did, my nerves made everything blurry.
Once I finished, I stood back and watched the other girls in urn. Noting their creativity or lack thereof and calculating my chances of getting on the team. Long story long (get it?), I made it! I'm sure you all could have predicted that as you probably guessed that 5 is my lucky number.
Yep, that's the story. I don't apply it very much but it's a solid answer for when people ask. I guess the only truly "lucky" thing I have is my spoon ring. I made it when I was very little. I tell everyone that I anticipated my hands growing and, therefore, made it big enough for a future self but, the truth is, I just got tired of hammering. Yep, I have a spoon ring that I made. It's pretty cool. Maybe, I'll upload a picture later.
Sorry for the spam guys but, I guess it just feels nice to be back. :D