T.A.L.K. and Get Scared
Jul 28, 2014 0:48:32 GMT -5
Post by Rowan Booker on Jul 28, 2014 0:48:32 GMT -5
First there was the boxing disaster, then the movie madness with Matty and now, well know Rowan just wanted to get back to his roots. His love and one of the only things about Hammel that he loved more than his friends. Dancing. Hip/hop, contemporary, ballet, jazz, lyrical; he couldn't think of one type of dance (that he'd learned) that he didn't love. Each had its own time and place to be used and certain songs just pushed the type of dance, making it a thing of beauty rather than carefully planned out steps and jumps. That was the thing about dancing, it wasn't just a sport or a workout, it was an art form. It was being graceful or edgy, it was expression and emotion. It was everything put into one song.
And as Rowan walked into the empty auditorium, he felt relaxed, like he was finally in a place that made sense to him, one spot at Hammel that made him feel connected. The lights were dimmed since there was no one using it and the stage as usual was empty, save a few random objects used by the drama kids that were left behind. He found himself smiling as he walked down the aisle, his fingers skimming across the tops of the chairs. One day, he hoped that he would be dancing in front of a larger audience, or perhaps he'd own his own company and teach dance. It was up in the air for him, his future, but he knew that somehow he would incorporate his love into what he was doing. Be it performing himself or teaching someone else the art of performing.
Today, it was all about his own performance though. One he'd choreographed back in Boston at his old dance studio. His former teacher had let her class out early one day he was there and offered to help him with it when he told her what he wanted to convey. Playing the song for her, he knew she'd be able to help him get the emotion across and with the steps carefully planned, he worked at it for the rest of his time there, whenever he had a spare moment. Rowan was proud of his dance, proud of his ability to choreograph and his ability to see something more when he listened to a song.
Setting up his MP3 player to the sound system, Rowan smiled faintly before taking his spot on the stage, waiting for his cue to start. The song burst through the speakers and he threw himself in, losing all sense of his surroundings and putting all the pent up frustration and irritation he felt into his dancing. It was edgy, clean and something he really wanted to share with the rest of the dance team.
The song drifted to an end and Rowan found himself on the ground, lying on his back to catch his breath, the song repeating, but this time just for background music.
And as Rowan walked into the empty auditorium, he felt relaxed, like he was finally in a place that made sense to him, one spot at Hammel that made him feel connected. The lights were dimmed since there was no one using it and the stage as usual was empty, save a few random objects used by the drama kids that were left behind. He found himself smiling as he walked down the aisle, his fingers skimming across the tops of the chairs. One day, he hoped that he would be dancing in front of a larger audience, or perhaps he'd own his own company and teach dance. It was up in the air for him, his future, but he knew that somehow he would incorporate his love into what he was doing. Be it performing himself or teaching someone else the art of performing.
Today, it was all about his own performance though. One he'd choreographed back in Boston at his old dance studio. His former teacher had let her class out early one day he was there and offered to help him with it when he told her what he wanted to convey. Playing the song for her, he knew she'd be able to help him get the emotion across and with the steps carefully planned, he worked at it for the rest of his time there, whenever he had a spare moment. Rowan was proud of his dance, proud of his ability to choreograph and his ability to see something more when he listened to a song.
Setting up his MP3 player to the sound system, Rowan smiled faintly before taking his spot on the stage, waiting for his cue to start. The song burst through the speakers and he threw himself in, losing all sense of his surroundings and putting all the pent up frustration and irritation he felt into his dancing. It was edgy, clean and something he really wanted to share with the rest of the dance team.
The song drifted to an end and Rowan found himself on the ground, lying on his back to catch his breath, the song repeating, but this time just for background music.