Personal Narrative: I Had A Girl Dance
“I stand here waiting for you to bang the gong. To crash the critic saying, "Is it right or is it wrong......" Lady Gaga’s Applause was pumping through, with tongue-in-cheek bravado, lands shacking. I enjoyed the hip-pop ever, even with crystal tears and numerous day-to-night practices, I felt it has been my part of life and could not be able to separate anymore.
My mind tracked back the time when I was still an 11-year-old innocent girl, did not even know about Jazz. The first time when I saw a girl dance was on the way to trip on my Grade six. A stage outside, with boys’ ironically sniggering, as the rhythms bombed around, a girl was rolling and waving with powerful strength. I felt the spotlights from the whole worlds focused on her. She …show more content…
was sparkling like a super star ever. The embryo of learning hip-pops started to spread out.
While the process was not simple as I imaged before.
After graduating from the primary school, I registered for the hip-pop curricular in my middle school. Unfortunately, I never had any chance to stay in the stage and showed in front of the publics since the unlimited postponing of our performance on campus. I was frustrated and annoying. My crystal heart seemed to break and felt dark around.
My volcano of hoping spouted flame and lava as soon as I noticed our school has a hip-pop club. I registered without hesitation as I saw their impressive performance on campus: high-level downrocking and uprocking, solo b-boying, which the dancing head was done to the earth. Everything was melting all around.
However, to knock up the door of hip-pop club, it seemed to hobble through the trouble clusters, because of my over-confidence. Sometimes, accumulated time experience and intelligent curiosity might not regard as forever-winning weapons; there were individuals more diligent out of my forecasting. Obviously, without seriously training before the election, I lost the opportunity to get into. One of the candidates danced even worse than me before, also got accepted. I crushed. Tears pumped out, lost control. Firstly, I felt my tears tasted bitter. I confused and wanted to give up while attracted by the spotlight and applause underneath; I wiped my tears away and told myself, “From now on, Peizhi, no tears
anymore!”
Afterwards, I seemed to change to another person. Pressing the bottom on sound recorder on the floor, I immersed into dancing room and stood in front of mirror during my time free. Not exaggerated as staying all days and nights, it was guaranteed after class every week day and weekends. Practicing downrock and uprock, sometimes, my nkles were swollen, with wet-soaking T-shirt, similar as a geek but I knew one day it would be worth for it.
My consistently persistence got paid. One month later, occasionally, the hip-pop dancing teacher passed by the dancing room and saw I was doing the B-boying, which impressed her. When standing in front of the video camera, from the corner of stage to first row in the middle, finally to the pinnacle of the pyramid on the stage, I became a rising star of the hip-pop club.
“I'll turn the lights out. Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch……” The familiar rhythm called me back to the reality. I felt grow up in hip-pop dancing, breaking a cocoon into a butterfly. Under the soft light, hip-pop, for me, became more attractive.
My mind tracked back the time when I was still an 11-year-old innocent girl, did not even know about Jazz. The first time when I saw a girl dance was on the way to trip on my Grade six. A stage outside, with boys’ ironically sniggering, as the rhythms bombed around, a girl was rolling and waving with powerful strength. I felt the spotlights from the whole worlds focused on her. She …show more content…
was sparkling like a super star ever. The embryo of learning hip-pops started to spread out.
While the process was not simple as I imaged before.
After graduating from the primary school, I registered for the hip-pop curricular in my middle school. Unfortunately, I never had any chance to stay in the stage and showed in front of the publics since the unlimited postponing of our performance on campus. I was frustrated and annoying. My crystal heart seemed to break and felt dark around.
My volcano of hoping spouted flame and lava as soon as I noticed our school has a hip-pop club. I registered without hesitation as I saw their impressive performance on campus: high-level downrocking and uprocking, solo b-boying, which the dancing head was done to the earth. Everything was melting all around.
However, to knock up the door of hip-pop club, it seemed to hobble through the trouble clusters, because of my over-confidence. Sometimes, accumulated time experience and intelligent curiosity might not regard as forever-winning weapons; there were individuals more diligent out of my forecasting. Obviously, without seriously training before the election, I lost the opportunity to get into. One of the candidates danced even worse than me before, also got accepted. I crushed. Tears pumped out, lost control. Firstly, I felt my tears tasted bitter. I confused and wanted to give up while attracted by the spotlight and applause underneath; I wiped my tears away and told myself, “From now on, Peizhi, no tears
anymore!”
Afterwards, I seemed to change to another person. Pressing the bottom on sound recorder on the floor, I immersed into dancing room and stood in front of mirror during my time free. Not exaggerated as staying all days and nights, it was guaranteed after class every week day and weekends. Practicing downrock and uprock, sometimes, my nkles were swollen, with wet-soaking T-shirt, similar as a geek but I knew one day it would be worth for it.
My consistently persistence got paid. One month later, occasionally, the hip-pop dancing teacher passed by the dancing room and saw I was doing the B-boying, which impressed her. When standing in front of the video camera, from the corner of stage to first row in the middle, finally to the pinnacle of the pyramid on the stage, I became a rising star of the hip-pop club.
“I'll turn the lights out. Put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch……” The familiar rhythm called me back to the reality. I felt grow up in hip-pop dancing, breaking a cocoon into a butterfly. Under the soft light, hip-pop, for me, became more attractive.