From Military to Tap-Dancing

"I'm not going to say this twice, so listen hard." The drill sergeant took a deep breath and rattled off. "Throw a counter straight into the belly, take a half-step back then knock him over with your legs, punch three and a half times on the feet and avoid all the spikes. Now go!

The toe shoes were just a little tight and each step was like the mermaid’s stepping on fire.

But it was time to learn how to go en pointe, and I was committed to becoming the best ballerina I could. My teacher scowled at me as I slid the ribbon ties around my ankles. “I don’t think you’re ready,” she said. I stood, still feeling as if my feet were on fire, and moved into

ready position. Unbeknownst to my instructor, I had been practicing for weeks—and not just the usual moves. I was receiving tutelage from a volatile source. Someone excommunicated from the ballet community but still a formidable master of their craft. My toes froze with energy.

I feverishly performed all I learned, down to the move my tutor called “angry cats on my back.” That had always been my favorite. The instructor seemed impressed and possibly scared. When finished I collapsed, panting on the floor. I looked at the instructor, “did I pass?”

"Absolutely!" The instructor beamed. "In all my years teaching interpretive tapdance, I've never seen a performance like yours. A+!" That one class changed my life, but I'm not sure if it was for the better.

I was really feeling the heat, so much pressure.”I know next time my performance will need to be stellar” so yeah,I grabbed my shoes and started the non-stop practice until my body fell on the floor from exhaustion, I felt tired and cold. I died, tap dancing killed me.