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Prancing & Dancing my Weekend Away…

December 6, 2009

I will now divulge a little about my life in order for this next story to fully make sense.  I’m the second oldest in a family of five children, all of my siblings being sisters. I know what you’re thinking, “you must have sandwiches made for you all the time” well you would be wrong. People constantly say “you poor thing it must be hard” and in response to this I constantly say “oh, it’s not that bad”, however the more I think of any positives to having four sisters I simply cannot find any (apart from always having the latest Cosmo around, style anyone?) Don’t misunderstand me I love my family dearly, however at times it feels that I do not “like” them.

This is probably due to the multitude of events and activities I’m constantly dragged along to against my will, much like a man who was wrongly convicted of a crime in Ancient Roman times being dragged to a crucifix I have often felt the very fiber of my soul tear and bleed as I watched in horror at the things I have seen at these “family” events, The latest of these being a Ballet concert.

At times I think to myself it is truly amazing that I’m straight despite the huge number of yearly ballet concerts I’m taken to. The last concert just passed was no exception in the usual golden quality standard that is set for these theatrical and dance-tastic train wrecks. The theme for this performance was simply “the world”, not particularly inventive and a tad on the nose as far as meaning and metaphor are concerned, however when the average performers age is eight a little bit of one dimensionality can be forgiven.

Due to my over all un willingness to be there at all, I was very quick to ctiticise and point out the numerous flaws in their depiction of different nations in the world. For example when a troupe of six year olds wondered confused and bewildered as to why they were on a stage with fifty parents watching their every move, being blinded by a constant barrage of camera flashes which would make the American paparazzi claim it was over kill, rather than sitting at home watching dora the explorer. The French dancers were all wearing berets and painting on easels and the Japanese dancers were all adorning chopsticks. this made me angry, how could they play of off simple and obvious stereotypes? I had half a mind to walk out in out rage however my mother was quite insistent that it would be rude (as if my loud sighs and yawns were displaying my enthusiasm)

The final blow came when for the finale they had the nerve to use a Michael Jackson song. Desperate for a way out of this monstrosity of a Saturday after noon I instinctively started to appear offended. Claiming “this is too soon! The man died not eight months ago and they’re using his song? Whats this world coming to?”

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