Smile and the world smiles with you

O-kayyyyyy...well, it's been a while since I've posted. In my defense, I spent more than a month chained to my computer for an intense (yet fulfilling) writing project at work, which left me rather computer-averse during my free time. Then I was busy learning choreography and creating a costume for the Fremont Summer Solstice Parade.

But, last week, in response to the question "So, are you ever going to update your blog?" I said "Next week! I swear!" And now it is Friday, and I am leaving for a week's vacation in about three hours, so it's now or never, I suppose. Now, on to my topic du jour.

Yesterday, I was pondering (read: agonizing over) the fact that I have trouble smiling with any sort of regularity when bellydancing. Since I love bellydancing, I hate it that my face does not accurately represent what is in my head and heart.

This fact is something that bothers me in a low-level sort of way, oh, constantly. But my worry has ramped up in this post-parade, pre-MedFest window. At MedFest, I am performing twice, once with my teacher and some of the other students who were also in her spring choreography class, and once solo. I've never performed at MedFest, so this is a huge deal for me.

So, about that smiling thing. Yesterday, I had an interesting thought: What if you can train your "smile muscles" just as you can train other muscles. If I make a conscious effort to go around smiling more, will it be easier to whip out the smile when the pressure is on?

Let me note that I am not a generally smiley person. When walking about (downtown, etc.) I often get people (translation: men whom I do not know) yelling out "Smile!." Little do they know that their command, rather than making me want to smile, makes me want to kick them in the nuts. But I digress.

So my experiment has two parts. One, simply to smile more during everyday goings-on. Two, when I am near a mirror, I will fix what I think is a "nice smile" on my face, then check the reality out in the mirror. I'm aiming for something less than glassy-eyed-beauty-pageant-contestant, and something more than too-subtle-to-notice.

Of course, all of this goes deeply against my cynical nature, but one must suffer for one's art!