Ulyber

Ulyber Mangune
February 6, 1992
Seattle, WA

This is a collection of my daily struggles and accomplishments. As such, you'll see a lot of Krystle and I.

Thanks for stopping by.

It's been since I first made her smile.

Tumblr by Ulyber Mangune on Grooveshark

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    • Taken with iPod || Floating Bridge ||  Seattle Dancers dance. I dance. Am I a dancer?  I’ve always had trouble describing what dance means to me. Describing dance is comparable to trying to describe the last best experience you had with someone and why it was so good—all you can really do is talk about what things made it good but not so much as why they do. All I know about dance is how it makes me feel.  This Monday, two days from now, I have an audition. Cornish College of the Arts, a private college I’ve always thought about attending, is where I’m hoping to get in. Last year, I thought about going in to it, but I never followed through—way too scared. I’d been dancing for four years at that point, but they were four years of dancing just in front of my computer learning basic hip hop from the net. Living in a place where this experience was enough to make me the hip hop source of the village, you could understand why I kept that door closed.  This past year, I’ve started training in ballet and lyrical. I started going to a kids’ studio in Redmond and learned with girls who were half my height. At that point, my confidence was shorter than them and my embarrassment twice the size of both of us. I’d watch them turn better than me, leap better than me, and dance better than me. Two months later, the ballet teacher there gave me two private lessons as a friend rather than an instructor. As one of the two references I’m allowed, she is now one of the people I trust the most in dance. Referring me to a drop-in studio called Westlake Dance Center an hour away in Seattle, she pushed me and said that she had high hopes. Two months before today, I started to seriously train in ballet, forcing myself from that class in to a Ballet II/III every Friday. I stopped attending the hip hop classes and replaced them with lyrical, contemporary, and ballet—all of which have the same shame-inducing-red-in-the-face-creating-confidence-dropping type of feel. However, the longer I immersed myself in them, the more I started to realize that my body meshes to them better than hip hop. The paradox then happens when my body realizes that its repertoire of moves are in the wrong genre, which usually ends me up falling on my face. This conflict is what’s slowly starting to create my “style”. Though I have yet to completely admit it to myself, Krystle continually assures me that I am in the process of becoming unique, that this style that I have is more than just style but a new flavor that I have the opportunity to give the whole world a taste to. I hope she’s right. I know that on the outside I’m not much. I know that I still have a really long way to go. But, I also know that if anything, the insides of me are dancing, and they’re dancing perfectly.  I just hope that Cornish sees this too. 

    Taken with iPod || Floating Bridge ||  Seattle

    Dancers dance. I dance. Am I a dancer? 

    I’ve always had trouble describing what dance means to me. Describing dance is comparable to trying to describe the last best experience you had with someone and why it was so good—all you can really do is talk about what things made it good but not so much as why they do. All I know about dance is how it makes me feel. 

    This Monday, two days from now, I have an audition. Cornish College of the Arts, a private college I’ve always thought about attending, is where I’m hoping to get in. Last year, I thought about going in to it, but I never followed through—way too scared. I’d been dancing for four years at that point, but they were four years of dancing just in front of my computer learning basic hip hop from the net. Living in a place where this experience was enough to make me the hip hop source of the village, you could understand why I kept that door closed. 

    This past year, I’ve started training in ballet and lyrical. I started going to a kids’ studio in Redmond and learned with girls who were half my height. At that point, my confidence was shorter than them and my embarrassment twice the size of both of us. I’d watch them turn better than me, leap better than me, and dance better than me. Two months later, the ballet teacher there gave me two private lessons as a friend rather than an instructor. As one of the two references I’m allowed, she is now one of the people I trust the most in dance. Referring me to a drop-in studio called Westlake Dance Center an hour away in Seattle, she pushed me and said that she had high hopes.

    Two months before today, I started to seriously train in ballet, forcing myself from that class in to a Ballet II/III every Friday. I stopped attending the hip hop classes and replaced them with lyrical, contemporary, and ballet—all of which have the same shame-inducing-red-in-the-face-creating-confidence-dropping type of feel. However, the longer I immersed myself in them, the more I started to realize that my body meshes to them better than hip hop. The paradox then happens when my body realizes that its repertoire of moves are in the wrong genre, which usually ends me up falling on my face. This conflict is what’s slowly starting to create my “style”. Though I have yet to completely admit it to myself, Krystle continually assures me that I am in the process of becoming unique, that this style that I have is more than just style but a new flavor that I have the opportunity to give the whole world a taste to. I hope she’s right.

    I know that on the outside I’m not much. I know that I still have a really long way to go. But, I also know that if anything, the insides of me are dancing, and they’re dancing perfectly. 

    I just hope that Cornish sees this too. 

    POSTED 3 months ago ♥ 5 notes
    Tag(s): #thoughts #stress #photo
    ♥ 5 notes
    1. ulyber posted this