Doesn't look like the sugar-plum fairy to me

Tonight I got as close as I've been in eight years to going to a ballet class. Wacky.

Too much information: I danced pretty much as soon as I could walk. At the age of two or three I informed my family that my signal of waving my index finger in front of my face while blinking rapidly meant, "Be quiet and sit down. I'm going to dance now." (That's a family favorite to tell when company's over.) I studied ballet from the age of six, danced with the San Francisco Ballet School till the age of sixteen when I ripped the cartilage in the metatarsal joint of my right big toe, effectively ended my career. I could pretty much do anything except for ballet, the one thing I really felt called to. A three-or-so year depression followed, the launching of my goth persona, and the beginnings of a budding vocalist career. Follow restaurant jobs, some stucco work, university, bands, motorcycles, Mexico, adventure...

Despite misgivings, I started doing modern dance in my twenties. I spent several years in Santa Cruz dancing sometimes twice daily and was the principal dancer in a small modern company, while completing my degree in Lit and playing in an alt-rock band in San Francisco. Recognizing the pending vulnerability of doing dance again seriously, (for better or worse) I decided to concentrate on my music, moved back to the Bay Area where my band was based, and gave up on dance entirely. It's very hard to do something you've dedicated your life to previously as a hobby or sport.

The band imploded after six years, despite moderate fame, a CD, some touring, etc. Two years of just and only work (bartending, managing restaurant) and pondering grad school. Despondent feelings of dumbing down. Cue job opening at Locus.

So here I am, thirty-five, magazine editor, completely out of shape and considering going to a beginning adult ballet class at Berkeley Ballet Theater. Could only find one ballet shoe. Stymied. Fah. So I'm having another tequila, and figuring out where to buy new ballet shoes. Try and stop me.

Will post ridiculous photo of self doing ballet at awkward age of eleven.