2010 was my favorite year so far...

So were 1984, 1985, 1986, 1987, 1988, 1989, 1990, 1991, 1992, 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009. (Wow--it took longer to type all of those than I expected.) I have a feeling 2011 will shape up to be my favorite, too.

Here is a list of things that changed in 2010:

-I now have a bicep vein (I am sorry if you are sick of hearing about this, but it was a big moment for me). I wasn't happy about this at first, but it is funny how things begin to grow on you (no pun intended). Now, if it starts to disappear, I tell Tom that I need to "feel more jacked." Then usually when I start to "feel more jacked," I tell Tom that I "feel too jacked." It's an endless cycle, really...


-I got ABD (All But Dissertation) status for my PhD in psychology. The end is in sight. Soon I will put that PhD to good use as a professional dancer. It sounds like I'm joking, but I'm actually very serious. I am very excited about what 2011 will bring in terms of dancology.

-I became an aunt, and I will be a double aunt in 2011!!! I am also happy to report that being around a baby didn't set off any desires to have a baby of my own. While I was thrilled to hold my little niece, I was also thrilled to hand her right back to her mom.

My niece Hannah

My nephew-to-be (in Lindsey's belly) and his sonogram

-My hair grew a lot longer. This is only noteworthy because of its symbolism. Let me explain... I have been obsessing about my hair growing for years. I would count every millimeter and get a little nauseous every time I got a haircut. In 2010, my hair spent 90% of its time either in a bun or attempting to somehow be cute after having been in a bun all morning. One day I realized that my hair was all of the sudden so long! As soon as I stopped obsessing over it, it happened! Take that as you will... I know... you are probably blown away by my wisdom right now... 

-My right shoulder now seems to be half an inch lower than my left shoulder thanks to carrying around my "Ellen Bag" all day. I will be looking into an "Ellen Backpack" for 2011. If there is anything more embarrassing than an "Ellen Bag," it's an "Ellen Backpack." What can I say? I am sacrificing for my art...

-Thanks to the creaking overgrown tree above our driveway prompting Patrick to move the contents of the garage to the little room in our basement that we don't like to talk about (see below), I can now park my car in the garage! This has literally changed my life. 

-Instead of one pair of jeans, Patrick now has two. Thank you, Santa. This is very big news. No need to tell you how many pairs I have... let's just say more than two...

Here is a list of the things that didn't changed in 2010:

 
-The "to-do list" associated with finishing the move-in process to our house. Including (but not limited to): the use of Patrick's old futon as our living room couch, the pile of sticks and branches in our backyard that will be turned into mulch any day now, the landscaping that will also be done any day now to make use of the aforementioned mulch, cleaning out the junk room in our basement that we conveniently skip when giving tours of our house because "we don't like to talk about it."

-My cell phone. It is still going strong, especially now that I added a layer of duct tape to the back.

-The deliciousness of our wedding cake! It is tradition to freeze the top tier of your wedding cake and eat it on your 1-year anniversary for good luck. My aunt was very sweet to freeze it for us in industrial strength tupperware so not an morsel of air could taint it. Naturally, Patrick and I forgot about it. Luckily, my aunt gave it to us for Christmas so we could salvage any good luck that was left in it. I was prepared to take a bite and promptly run to the bathroom to spit it out, but it was delicious! 

Reliving the moment.

Getting our wedding cake!

-I am still a vegetarian. Don't feel sorry for me, though. I get to eat so much cheese and peanut butter! 

-My love of cute mini things. I am excited to be getting my first mini nephew (courtesy of my sister Lindsey) so that I could buy him his first pair of cute mini jeans!  

Lindsey, don't be mad at me for posting this picture. Yes, we look like crap, but the jeans were just too cute not to post...

Me and my buddy...

Me and my buddy

Chances are that if you see me out and about, I am accompanied by my "Ellen Bag" and my buddy Erin. She is my buddy because she is more than just my friend. She is a friend with benefits, but not in the way you are thinking. I have calculated that I am approximately a 30% stronger and better dancer because of her.

We both have the same goal to become better dancers, and we do this together. Psychologists call the increase in performance because of the presence of another person social facilitation. Erin is my social facilitator. We carpool together, we do our personal training sessions together, we help each other with our mental workouts, we go see shows together, we review choreography together, we complain to each other, we encourage each other, and the list goes on and on....
 

If I want to sleep in and skip a morning training session, I don't because I know Erin will be there improving, and I will feel behind. If trainer Tom hands Erin a heavier weight than me, I kindly ask him for the heavier one and pretend that I am not about to fall over with it. If I am feeling frustrated, I vent to Erin while she nods her head until I start to realize how ridiculous I sound.

It would be very difficult, if not impossible, to do what I do without my buddy. I hope that you have a buddy, too. The best things in life are usually really freaking hard to achieve, and the road to them is usually filled with blood, sweat, tears, disappointment, frustration, anxiety... I can't imagine having to persevere through all of that to get to the good stuff without my social facilitator and wine and my husband Patrick, of course. Patrick is also a friend with benefits, but in the way you were thinking...     

Just a quick thought...

Few things in this world make me angrier than when I am vacuuming and the plug falls out of the outlet. It's a good thing that I rarely vacuum. That's it for today... 

...Oh, wait!!! Patrick and I are Godparents*!!! Here is our first pic with Hannah Banana after finding out. We love her. She is the ultimate "cute mini thing."

*(not technically until the Baptism, but close enough)

While I'm on the subject, look how tiny and cute her mini fingers are!!!

Those fingernails will be getting lots of manicures with Aunt Ellen.

My cute mini flu

Yesterday I got a flu shot. Today I woke up with a cute mini flu.

I had a sudden stilt of bravery, so I thought I should take advantage of it by getting a flu shot. I need to get my flu shots on a whim, otherwise they won't happen. In the past I have attempted to plan them in advance, consequently initiating the launch sequence of my nervousness. My thought process usually goes something like this:

"I think I can do this!" followed by, "Am I really doing this?" followed by, "I think I could still get out of this...." When I give myself less time to go through these steps, it is usually too late to get out of it. Yesterday, by the time I got to "I think I can still get out of this," I was sitting in the doctor's office with the nurse, who was wiping down the point of entry. Don't get me wrong, I still considered getting up and leaving, but I calculated that the embarrassment would be slightly worse than the needle prick.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath (only in, then I held my breath the rest of the time), gripped onto the sides of the chair for dear life, and waited for my impending doom.............(pause for the big moment)..............Oh! That wasn't bad at all!

This is what happens EVERY time. You would think that I would just remember that it is not that bad and skip the agony, but then I would not be the Ellen that I am.

Plus, the best part is that I woke up this morning with a cute mini version of the flu that my immune system gets to work on! Now I can breathe a sigh of relief... until next year...

My "Ellen Bag"

If you happen to run into me on the street, you are likely to see me carrying my "Ellen Bag" filled with enough clothing and materials to last for a week vacation. It is called my "Ellen Bag" because it is a bag, and it has my name monogrammed on the side in pink letters. Yes, I know that I am not in the 3rd grade, but if it didn't have my name on it, it would just be my "bag." That is much less exciting.

Anyways, my "Ellen Bag" is heaviest on Wednesdays because it has to get me through 4 wardrobe changes (not including P.J.'s)...

Outfit #1: I begin the day in my workout clothes for my personal training session. This usually consists of whatever I can find the fastest in the morning. When I wake up, I like to ease into the day with about 30 minutes of bagel/coffee/internet time and 30 minutes of getting ready time. This usually turns into about 57 minutes of bagel/coffee/internet time and about 3 minutes of getting ready time, so I have to make the best of those 3 minutes. This means that I am typically still pretty disheveled by the time I get to Tom. Luckily, my "Ellen Bag" comes to the rescue for my next wardrobe change.

Outfit #2: After my training session with Tom, I heave myself over to the elevator up the stairs to the 3rd floor for class. Next, I put on my attire for ballet and jazz class. Luckily, these articles don't take up very much valuable space in my "Ellen Bag." I could basically fold my dance outfits into a ball with about a 2-inch diameter. Oh, I almost forgot! This is the part of my day where my hair gel has its big moment.

Outfit #3: As soon as class is over, I tote my "Ellen Bag" with me into the bathroom and emerge as "Psychologist Ellen!". Now in my "real person clothes," I race to the elevator stairs, trot (yes, literally trot... it is difficult to run with my "Ellen bag") out of the building and down Olive Blvd to the parking garage. I jump in my car and make my way to Saint Louis University.

Outfit #4: Once I am finished with my "ologist" duties for the day, I hop back in my car and make my way to the studio where I teach. Once there, my "Ellen Bag" and I make our way to the back through a very narrow hallway lined with observing parents, taking care not to knock them with my bag (this is often unsuccessful). When I finally get to the bathroom, I change into my 4th and final outfit of the day, my teacher clothes. This is similar to Outfit #2, but less polished and more covered up.

After a long day with many wardrobe changes and multiple deodorant applications, I finally make it home at 10 pm. I empty the contents of my "Ellen Bag" onto the living room floor into the laundry hamper and grab a glass of wine. The End.

Random uninteresting facts about me...

I usually have at least 3 ponytail holders in my hair at a time. I basically like to give myself a face lift for class.

The "couch" in our family room is the futon that Patrick has had since Freshman year of college. We've traded the purple velvet cover for a more neutral taupe. I know... that's pretty embarrassing...

My forehead about 1 inch higher than it is naturally

 

Louise enjoying the neutral futon



I usually only fill up the gas tank about 3/4 of the way because I get bored.

My biggest fear is dropping my keys down the crack of the opening of an elevator. I grip my keys very tightly whenever I enter or exit.

I like that my birthday numbers (3/9/84) are all multiples of 3 when you add the 8 and 4 of 84 to get 12.

I eavesdrop and join in on other people's conversations all the time. I forget that eavesdropping is rude. I am not trying to be rude, I just like to talk to people. You have to start somewhere, so I tend to start in the middle of other people's conversations.

I don't even consider buying something unless it is at least 50% off. Anything less than that equals "I could still find it cheaper at T.J. Maxx." The thrill is in the hunt. Even if I were super rich, I would still be a bargain shopper.

I still have an old flip cell phone. Now it is missing its back. I think people feel sorry for me when they see it. No need. I pretty much just like to dial and text.

Me on my flip phone, not realizing how lame I look...

I used to hate high-fives, and now I love them. Patrick has always loved them, so I used to pretend that I liked them. When he would reach his hand up for one, I would not leave him hanging, but my heart wasn't in it. One day I said, "I choose not to high-five anymore." He was disappointed, but we moved past it. One day I started liking them. This is a fairly recent development. I have no explanation for the sudden change.

A little bit of "ology"

"We do not always remember our past selves accurately--as we once were. Research suggests that people can falsely recall aspects of their past selves in line with current beliefs and expectations of who they think they once were and who they are now" (Newman & Lindsay, 2009).

In that case...

• I was never mean to my little brothers.
• I never gained the Freshman 15. (In case you were wondering, there will be no pictures associated with this blog post.)
• I always showed my appreciation for my parents, and never said things like, "Thanks for ruining my life!" when I wasn't allowed to go to a party sans parents.
• I never thought that the phrase was "for all intensive purposes."
• I never skipped classes in college to hang out with Patrick.

Two steps forward, one step back...in my cute mini dance studio...

So after my "one step back days," I used to agonize over every mistake for the rest of the day. It is a continuous process, but I am trying to accept those days for what they are and move on. I realized that I was leaving the direction of my steps up to chance when I would simply be "happy about my good days" and "hope a bad day wouldn't creep in anywhere." 

One thing that has helped me is having my own cute mini dance studio in my basement (courtesy of Patrick and our old fake wood flooring). Now, any time I catch myself thinking, "I hope my X is better tomorrow," I can trot down to my basement and work on X. It makes me feel better to actually do something about it, rather than just worrying about it or hoping for it.

Patrick building my cute mine dance studio

More importantly, it doubles as a great stage for StLDT game night!!!

We heart Geoff!

 

Don't mess with T-bone (Trisha) on game night. She is in it to win it!

I don't really have  toothache, I was just acting...

Miranda teaches Zumba, in case you couldn't tell...

Add one to the list...

Along with my titles of wife, daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter, friend, dancer, and psychologist, I can now add AUNT!!!

Patrick's sister Andrea and her husband Nic welcomed my first niece Hannah Vivian Mutch to the world on November 24, 2010. I think she looks just like her mom, and by default, Patrick. Here, you can be the judge:

Andrea, Nic, and Hannah Banana (I am thinking about calling her that. I haven't totally decided yet. Just testing it out...)

Those are dancer feet if I ever saw them!

I plan to take her shopping all the time and to buy her junk food that her parents will only let her eat on special occasions. After all, it will be a special occasion when she hangs out with Aunt Ellen.

 

I am thankful for the following 16 things:

1. Hair gel and minty lip gloss...obviously.

2. A husband with a "real person job" in finance so I don't have to be a starving artist, only a mildly hungry one.

My monkey arms in full force

3. My ridiculously long arms that make for lots of laughs in my dance classes and training sessions. Paula calls them my monkey arms, and my trainer Tom calls me Jane Goodall. Also, my long fingers that leave room for lots of diamonds--why wear one ring per finger when you can wear five!? It would have been nice, however, for Your generosity to extend to the length of my legs.

 

4. My dog Louise because she is so cute that I can't stand it.

Patrick's wedding band says "I can't stand it!"

5. My husband Patrick because I love him so much that I can't stand it. That happens to be what is inscribed in his wedding band. Don't be alarmed that that I listed Louise before Patrick...it just happened that way...I love them both equally.

6. The fact that Patrick hasn't quite figured out yet that he does more of the cooking, cleaning, etc. than I do. I am hoping to squeeze another year or so out of this. And, in case you were concerned, I was just kidding about loving them both equally. After all, Louise can't cook or clean. Just kidding again. 

7. My mom for many reasons, but she always made sure that I was the first one in my class to get the newest Disney movie on video (yes, that's right, video), and then I would come home to a scavenger hunt to find it!

9. My dad for many reasons, but he drove me halfway across the country one summer so that I could go to a ballet intensive in Connecticut. And, luckily, he still loved me enough to drive all the way back 6 weeks later to pick me up.

10, 11, and 12. My brothers and sister. Lindsey didn't let "stress" get anywhere near me during my wedding. Tyler can always whip out a good Seinfeld line. Thomas still loves me even though I used to pick on him for not pronouncing his R's. He can now.

Lindsey and me

Tyler and me

Thomas and me

13 and 14. My mentors Paula David and Cecil Slaughter. They both don't let me settle for anything less than better than I am. Because of them, I feel like every night is Christmas Eve. I get to wake up and do what I love every morning. 

Cecil (this is not Paula, in case you were confused) and me

Paula "making me better"

15. On a somewhat related note...Advil. And by Advil, I mean generic ibuprofen. Patrick says that we will know when we have really made it when we spring for real Advil...

16. God having designed every event in my life so far so that I could end up exactly where I am right now, fake Advil and all... 

When your toe hurts, it's usually not your toe that's hurt...

This is so amazing to me. As a dancer I have a slightly vested interest in the human body, and I am learning so much from my trainer and chiropractor and google. (My husband doesn't let me google my symptoms anymore. As I've said before, my mind has a tendency to take over my matter. I still sneak it every once in a while, though. I've also stopped watching "House" and "Grey's Anatomy" after I was convinced that a bruise on my leg was bone cancer. It wasn't. It was a bruise. But, seriously, what are the chances that a "Grey's Anatomy" character would happen to be a dancer and happen to have bone cancer in his leg at the exact time that I happened to have a bruise on my leg and one of the symptoms of bone cancer (according to Dr. Google) just happens to be bruising!?!? .............Hence, becoming banned from Dr. Google and all medical-related shows.) Anyway, back to the topic of interest... 

My trainer Tom Jones at The Boxing Gym does a great job at kicking my a$&, and my chiropractor Dr. Rachel Loeb does a great job of putting it back together. I am so grateful to have Tom and Rachel's help. They are both so knowledgeable, so invested, and so great at what they do. I always feel so awful (in a good way) when I finish a session with Tom and so wonderful when I finish a session with Rachel. It is so amazing to me how a weakness in a certain area can cause a chain of events that manifests in a totally different area. When my knee was hurting, Tom had me doing more glute exercises, and when my toe was hurting, Rachel had me doing calf exercises. Today, when Rachel dug out my psoas muscle in my abdomen, my hip totally relaxed. It's amazing!

Really, I think all of these aches and pains were designed by God specifically for dancers to signal us that we are slacking on a certain area of our technique. My knee pain was great for me because it signaled me to focus on holding my turnout from the back, not my quads. My toe pain was great because it signaled me to focus on not rolling in on my feet. That was so smart of God! He is like my own personal ballet instructor. So much better than Dr. Google!

On an unrelated note, I am trying to cope with the fact that StLDT doesn't have classes Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday because of Thanksgiving. This will be the true test of my recovery (see previous post). I am making baby steps, however. I did go to T.J. Maxx on Saturday, but I didn't buy one thing! Thankfully, Black Friday sales will be there for me this weekend. Patrick, I think it is really important for my progress that I fully take advantage of them. As a loving husband, I'm sure you will understand and support me every step of the way. Get excited for the savings!

Twiddling my thumbs...

This is what I do on Saturdays. And blog, of course. All week I can't wait for Saturday to get here so I can sleep in; when it comes, I don't know what to do with myself. Brace yourself...I can't even work up the motivation to get dressed and go to T.J. Maxx!

My mind is reeling because I can't wait to get back into the dance studio. Monday feels so far away. Two whole days without ballet class??? I really think I am developing a problem. A good problem, of course, but, seriously, get a grip, Ellen!

OK, I've admitted that I have a problem, so now maybe I can pull myself together. Hopefully, my next post will be devoted to all the great bargains I find today. It's going to be a tough road to recovery. Come on, Ellen, you can do it! After all, I do need some more flats...

The new normal

I went to an "ologist" meeting today, and it was brought up that once someone's life takes either a positive or negative turn, he or she will eventually "reset" their normal so that the positive no longer seems so positive and the negative no longer seems so negative. This is great for the negative side of things, but this is discouraging for the positive side of things. The worst part is that we move 3 times faster to the "new normal" when a positive change occurs than when a negative change occurs! That sucks!

I still haven't hit my "new normal" in terms of my life with StLDT. I am still just as excited and happy as I was when I received the phone call from Paula David and Cecil Slaughter saying that I got in the company. I have always been a happy person, but I can honestly say that I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. Aside from the excitement of being a part of such an amazing new venture, the fact that I have worked so hard and devoted everything I have to something is the most gratifying. In my interview for the November "In Step" newsletter, I said that I have so much fun with the process that the product seems like a bonus. The process is not always easy (actually it's never easy--and if it is, it means that you'd better start moving toward the next level), but it is so much fun and so rewarding. Different or bigger and better products will come and go and their novelty will soon wear off, but the process will always be there for you. I think this is the key to maintaining the positive of positive things...Love the process.

Entering the world of flats...

I am discovering that the more I care about how I look inside the studio, the less I care about how I look outside the studio.

I officially purchased my first pair of flats this weekend. This is a big moment for me because I have always sacrificed comfort for cuteness. 

My uncomfortable-but-worth-it wedding shoes



When I was shopping for wedding shoes, every salesperson said to me, "Now, you will want to make sure they are comfortable." I would simply nod in agreement, and then reach for the 4-inch heels. Usually, if my feet are numb by the end of an evening, I consider it a success.

My winter coats always function much better at looking cute than at keeping me warm. My mother-in-law likes to remind me of this (side note--Yes, I am aware that it is cold outside. Yes, I am aware that I might be a little chilly. As long as we are not planning on climbing Mt. Everest, I think I can make it from the front door to the car...). Anyway...sorry about that... 

These days, I am trying to resist the urge to carry around a sign with me that reads, "I PROMISE I AM USUALLY MUCH CUTER THAN THIS!" Don't  worry, I won't really do this. I am just trying to come to terms with my new flats. Don't get me wrong, they are still metallic and snake-skin, but I am missing a certain sense of "pain is beauty."

This new found comfort might take a little getting used to, but my new flats are giving me a blister, so all is right with the world. All bets are off when it comes to my winter coat, though.

I still have a scar under my chin from a trip to K-Mart in a pair of new patent leather shoes when I was about 6 years old. I got a little too excited about my pretty new shoes. A little dancing in the aisles, trip to the ER, and a few stitches later, I have a permanent reminder of the sacrifices I have made for cuteness.

The wise Paula David, artistic director of StLDT, once said to me, "You will find yourself living your whole life to support your art." Well folks, it's happened. I've made the ultimate sacrifice. I am saving all of the pain in my feet for dancing.

I feel like I should end by saying, please don't judge me from this post... 

Understand and support this amazing company

I decided that I'm not going to worry about getting old...

Let me preface this by saying that I did have my moment of weakness...

It all started during the excitement of getting ready for my wedding, when I was getting regular facials. For some reason, you feel like when you are engaged that you need to be getting regular facials, manicures, hair highlights, etc., which seems rather silly now that I look back on it. Anyway, during one of my facials, my aesthetician (that is hard to say) was telling me about an exciting new treatment that they were offering. She goes on to say..................hold on, this is hard for me................She says................"It will help you get rid of all of these fine lines around your eyes and mouth!" (in an excited tone, while pointing out all the "fine lines" around my eyes and mouth in the 10x magnified mirror) .............................................................................My response: WHATTTT!?????!!!!!????!!!!!!!?????!!!!!! (internally, of course. On the outside I was all smiles and saying, "Oh, that sounds neat.")

Needless to say, I never went back there again. Those 10X magnified mirrors are no good for anyone. 


I was 25 years old at the time, and I am convinced that I have had the same "fine lines" since I was about 12. Unfortunately, as soon as she gave them the title "fine lines," there was no going back!

My theory is that it becomes so easy to just blame everything on, "Oh, I am just getting older." Age is so relative. I think you should always just consider yourself "young" compared to where you will be 10 or 20 years from now. This works whether you are 26, 36, 56, or 86.




This picture shows my "fine lines" at my wedding, a few months after "the incident." I think if I were to look at this picture 20 years from now and remember that I had stressed about wrinkles at this point (that's right, I said the 'W' word), I would travel back in time and smack my 25-year-old-self in the face!

My mom on her honeymoon in 1977

When I look at this picture of my mom on her honeymoon (about the same age as me now, give or take a few years), I think that she looks like such a baby!

Me on my honeymoon in 2009

And to think that I, at about this same age, looking almost identical to my mom on my own honeymoon, started to have a moment of weakness of feeling "old!" 

With all that being said, I will obviously start using wrinkle cream in a few years...you can never be too prepared...

"Dad, heer is a present just for the heck of it. Love, Ellen."

We recently visited my dad's office while in Lexington, and I found this on his shelves. It is an envelope holding a little heart that I made for him out of play-doh (now in about 15 little pieces). In case there was any question about what it was, I attached a sticky-note to it that reads, "Dad heer is a present just for the heck of it. Love, Ellen." I remember putting this together with my mom and being so excited for my dad to get home from work to see it! Mom, 20+ years later, I am a little embarrassed that you didn't make me fix my spelling error...

I also have a vivid memory of those elephant sticky-notes. If you recall, elephants used to be my favorite animal (that is, before the dreaded "National Geographic incident"--see my first post). I loved those sticky notes! I also vividly remember my "Ellen" stamp that I used to sign the envelope. I had a lot of fun with that stamp. There was never any question about what belonged to me in my household.

It's funny how the little things we do sometimes have the biggest effect on people. Who would have thought that my dad would keep this for 20+ years right on display in his office. I love my parents because they love me enough to keep old, crumbling bits of play-doh that I made for them "just for the heck of it."

I just hope they weren't quite as affected by all the bratty things I did, too...  

I think I can... I think I can!

When people ask you how you are, do you ever say anything other than "good!"? I never do.


This is Thomas the Tank Engine, in case you were wondering....
you will understand the symbolism later...

I was sitting at my desk today waiting for my co-worker to arrive, and I was imagining our initial conversation (don't ask me why). Just like every other day, he would undoubtedly put his things down on his desk and ask me (because he is so very nice and considerate), "So, how are you today?" I was contemplating what I would say, as I am feeling other than "good" today. Usually, I would simply go to my standard response, but I have caught myself in some situations thinking, "I just blatantly lied!"

I am wondering if the alternative would be better? To tell someone exactly how you are really feeling. But I think there is something to be said for your mind catching up to your actions. If you tell yourself or someone else that you are "good," your mind wants to be consistent with that behavior or response. That is what we psychologists call reducing "cognitive dissonance." This is why self-confidence is so important for success at anything.

Let's take dance for example. If I, myself, believe that I am a great dancer, I will work to make my actions and behavior (i.e., my dancing) consistent with my thoughts. When we get down on ourselves, it becomes very difficult to perform well. How can we expect our bodies to outperform what we expect of ourselves??? The trick is to make this work for you, not against you. Much easier said than done, but I am working on it!

(Related sidenote: Another co-worker just walked over and said, "Hey Ellen, how are you?" Without even thinking, I said, "Pretty good, how are you?" And I do feel a little better now, so maybe it does work!)

Try this (I know it sounds lame, but just do it...it only takes 5 seconds...):

List (yes...actually write them down) 3 things that you did well today. Some days (ahem...like today...) this is harder than others, but something this simple can be your start (or your re-start, in my case...admittedly, I have been slacking on my mental training a bit). Do this after every class or after every rehearsal or after every day or after every (fill in the blank). Start recognizing and focusing on your successes, and your performance will start to meet your mind's expectations.  

Jason Selk's book 10-Minute Toughness is a great resource to help you develop a concrete/simple plan to make this work for you. I recieved a very touching letter from someone who bought this book based on another blog entry, and it made a huge impact on her. I thought it would be worth mentioning again in case it might reach someone else.

Good, better...and that's it.

Just when I am feeling like the best dancer in the world by Friday, Monday (and Tuesday, in some cases) always seems to roll around to smack me in the face. I think it is important to get smacked in the face every once in a while, though. The wise voice of Paula David, artistic director of StLDT says, "Good dancing is hard!" Sometimes it is easy to forget this because I am surrounded by so many beautiful people that make it look so easy, but the struggle is the best part (sometimes it is easy to forget that, too). I love the blood, sweat, and tears (I think people often say this figuratively, but dancers really mean it) that come together to produce a better product than the day before (usually). Inch by inch we work our way to "better," and it is so rewarding when "better" gets there. Well, I should say that it is rewarding for about 5 minutes, until you move on to attain a better "better." But that 5 minutes really is worth it!  "Best" does not exist. I don't know why we were ever taught "good, better, best." But the fact that best doesn't exist is such a great aspect of life. There will always be a "better". Can you imagine if you ever actually got to "best"? What would you do from there? That would be miserable.

During the "ologist" part of my day yesterday, I sat in on a discussion about the roles of science and religion, and whether science could ever catch up to completely take over the "need for" religion to explain things in the universe. It was brought up that even in science, answering one question opens twelve new questions to be answered. God was pretty smart when He designed the universe. He definitely gave us plenty to do. Whether you are uncovering the secrets of the universe or trying to increase your turnout during tendus, there is always more to do.   

My fellow StLDT dancer, Dustin, just wrote something in his blog that really stuck with me and reminded me why I do what I do. He says (after describing a dream he had about improving his dancing), "I will dream about pirouettes, left splits, and MUCH more for you."

At the end of the day, we do this for you. It is easy to get wrapped up in "why can't my leg go as high as hers," or "why can't I jump as high as him," or "why can't I turn as well as her," when really this isn't about me. It is about you, and giving to you on stage. Don't worry, I promise to still work my butt off to get my leg up as high as hers, and jump as high as him, and turn as well as her, but I also promise to keep you in mind and not let myself drag me down. I promise to keep working toward a better "better" for you and to love every second of it (~inspired by Dustin).

Oh, and here is a picture of my dog because I felt that this post could use a picture...and she's really cute. 

Me with Louise Marie Hinkel-Reed

What is this salty discharge? Is this crying?



A Seinfeld line is always appropriate...



This has actually become quite the problem for me. I keep spontaneously tearing up. I have always been rather emotional, but this is getting out of hand! I am literally so happy that I can't stop crying. This seems a little backwards, but I actually cry more when I am happy than when I am sad. So if you ever see me NOT crying, then you should be worried.

It all started in jazz class at StLDT when we were stretching to great music in a great space surrounded by great people. I became so overwhelmed with happiness that I started crying. And not just a light mist, but buckets of tears running down my face! And not just then...sometimes I mist up on my way to class in the morning, sometimes after I have a great class, sometimes when I think about how amazingly supportive my husband is, sometimes when I read StLDT's newsletter, sometimes when I see the smiling/excited faces of my directors and fellow dancers, sometimes when I write blog entries about how I can't stop crying-PULL IT TOGETHER, ELLEN!!! OK, I'm back.This can be slightly embarrassing, but I feel so lucky to have so much to cry about. Thank you, thank you, thank you to whichever "you" you might be. There are a million of "you", and I love you all!    

Thank God for hair gel...

I sometimes try to say "Thank goodness" instead of "Thank God," but it just doesn't have quite the same effect. Plus, I think it is OK if you really mean it. In this case, I really mean it. Thank God for hair gel! No matter how I feel in the morning, slicking on a dime-sized dollop (and on really dishevelled days, a quarter-sized dollop) makes me feel instantly put together. It's like a shot of adrenaline. I feel ready and excited to dance. Patrick even uses it before he goes to work. I will never be one of those dancers who can roll right out of bed and come to class in a ratty t-shirt with my hair all out of sorts. I've tried this before because sometimes I think those dancers look really cool, but it just doesn't work for me. A few weeks ago, my trainer gave me such a hard workout before class that I didn't even have the energy to change into a leotard or slick my hair before barre. Everyone looked at me like I must be about to keel over because that is just so out of character for me. I think they were genuinely concerned! Don't worry, I whipped out the Dep in between barre and center, so all was right with the world again. My Dep really helps me through those long, exhausting days. It is like a reset button on my energy level. As I am writing this, I am realizing how ridiculous it sounds...

I am also going to have to give an honorable mention to my minty lip gloss. This is step number 2 of operation "Ellen Feeling Put Together." ...................................................................................... (Sorry, I was having writers block so I needed to pause for a lip gloss application)...........................................................The moral of the story is that if you see me whip out my beauty products in between classes, try not to judge me as being vain. I probably just needed a little pick-me-up.

This is how I know my husband loves me...

He made me a cute mini stack of pancakes this morning (see photo). He also made me a regular sized stack, but we all know how I feel about cute mini things. That's it.

Cute mini stack of pancakes