I’ve been sent home from work early. Not for chucking shoes at people, just because it’s been so slow. I need more hours and I’m hoping very much to at least hear back from one of the four coffee shops I’ve applied to. I don’t have any experience with making espresso, but I have a lot of experience placating angry customers upset about something outside my control (I would love this shoe in green you don’t have it in green do you? What? You’re sure you don’t have a green one in the back? Just because Frye doesn’t make one doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have it. What do you mean you can’t cobble it yourself.) I am also excellent in fake smiling and I’ve perfected that I’m so sorry you are unhappy with something outside of my control tone of voice.
I’ve been drinking tea a lot more, sorry starbucks, for its lack of caffeine inducing jitters. Moving to Portland has given me this insatiable urge to constantly be sipping a warm beverage. I’m more hydrated than ever.
My mind usually wanders during barre, it seems, and last night was no exception. I have a hard time concentrating on being mentally present during barre here. It used to be such a sacred thing for me, warming up at the barre, but outside of a class where I’m not being pushed very hard and my peers are either young Portland Ballet students or kick ass older women doing it for fun and fitness, I have been having a hard time being in my body. This goes away by adagio, usually, but at barre my mind wanders. I think about the trek home and how thick I look in the mirror and about what I’m going to eat for dinner. I have a feeling the teacher doesn’t take me very seriously, but I don’t blame him – I show up once a week to his class, and I’m only slowly regaining my muscle control.
I do feel like a newborn giraffe, like my wiring is crossed and my limbs once knew what to do but no longer quite remember. This has gotten much better since January when I started morning ballet, but it is still there. I had a real moment during class when I was trying to balance in second and my leg leg barely got to ninety. I was trying so hard.
That was the problem. I stopped gripping and my leg floated up six inches. When I stopped trying to muscle through it, my body did what I wanted it to do. Maybe there’s a life metaphor in there somewhere.
I’ve been having a real hard time with my ribs, in ballet, in classical jazz, in contemporary – I mean, they’re all still there and not tourqued out of place, but when I try to really fucking reach out through the room or up to the lights they open too much and I can’t find the middle ground.
That’s where a lot of my problems lay, right now, and Renee said as much in different words. I’m either corrected for moving with too much abandon or too much technique. I know how to let go – really, if you tell me to let go, I will flail wildly in a pattern similar to what you taught – but I’m having such difficultly moving with controlled abandon.
Like Renee said, I will move between really getting it and then suddenly not getting it. It’s just frustrating, because I don’t feel like I’m perfecting my craft so much as I’m throwing darts at a wall and hoping something sticks.
There are three auditions I will be doing in March:
- Zoe Scofield (and workshop)
- Seattle Opera – dancer for The Pearl Fishers
- MuddyFeet – part time Portland company
I would love the opera job because those pay really well. I would try to sublease a room for the six weeks if need to be there, but I wouldn’t move unless it looked like I would be getting consistent work. I do have a feeling I need to drop at least some water weight (the salt bloat is an attractive look on few) because the costumes are only so big. This means I either need to stop eating from the thai food cart or eat less – I don’t go far over my calorie goals, and by dropping the sweets, I would be totally fine. But I’m weak, yo.
As for MuddyFeet, this one makes me more actually nervous. I know the people who run and choreograph for it. I take classes from Tracy and Rachel, so they have most likely already opened some opinions on me. The upside is that the know me and my look and movement style, maybe they know I’m relaible, but on the downside, unless I really pull something out of my ass at the audition, they have formed their opinion on what I look like. This would be the perfect sort of work for me because it’s part time, it’s a little company, and I would be in rehearsal, dancing more, and I like these people. So when something so well suited comes up, it’s a lot harder to think about failing than when it’s something bigger like Hubbard or the opera.
Regardless of how it all turns out, I’m just going to keep showing up to class and sweating my balls off.
Class of the day: Tuesday – Ballet at Bodyvox
Wednesday – Contemporary at NWDP. Rachel’s class rocked my world. It felt like home.