Rejoice rejoice, my cries to the universe were answered. I threw my resume at every business in town. I did get hired at another boutique, so more retail. This is good, because I know how to do retail. This is bad, because I know that shopping brings out the worst in people and what is with that. At least I get to look nice while people make unreasonable demands about the price/product/store location/size/weather.

Regardless, I am relieved to have another source of income. I even got new shoes. For the shoe store and my other job. Because I have to face the reality that my tank boots are not suitable to the Pearl District customers’ sensibilities.

Worrying about money is perhaps what makes me feel the most like an adult, that and having an epiphany awhile ago that dead means dead and never coming back. I’m gonna leave that heavy statement there and not worry about extrapolating

I am apprehensive, though, because of the times they would like me to work. I refuse to fall into the cycle that so many artists fall into. You get a job to support your passion, but then you have to attend to your job and you start missing auditions and rehearsals and classes. I’m not going to Seattle anymore, but I didn’t have the money, anyway, and I’m a little relieved. I’m putting my energy into MuddyFeet.

But I refuse to fall into this. I can see it looking me in the face, and I need to make it clear that I will bust my ass whenever you need me so long as it is after I’ve made it to morning class. Frankly, I’m willing to give up my Saturday contemporary if it means I get to go to Thursday and Friday contemporary as well as Thursday night ballet, which I had been missing because of NWDP work. So it’ll even out, I’m just trading a class. I need to assert myself that I cannot regularly miss my morning classes.

And what if I do get picked up for some projects and get into a company? I know the types of things I’m looking at have rehearsals in the evenings, as it is, but having one or no days off in a week is going to make it hard to not only rehearse but perform.

My strategy will be what it always is: be genuine in my efforts at work, and work hard when I can, so that when I need the time, they can (and want to) let me have it.

I have big plans for my paycheck. Rent, electricity…all that fun stuff. I’ll buy food too. And beer. Lots of beer.

Zac and I spent Saturday walking around and being worried about things.

We went to a bar downtown and sat on the patio, each with our 3 dollar IPAs. He took out his cigarettes, like always, and when he put down the pack, I asked for one. I hadn’t smoked in four or five months, and I had been drunk at the time. Zac tried to deny me, but I pointed out that I had bought the pack (well, I’d given him money, and we both give each other money depending on who has it).

He gave me a cigarette, with his long and slender fingers and showed me how to light the flimsy plaid pantry matches.

With the first inhale, I remembered why I don’t smoke. It’s awesome. Relief washed over me and between that and the beer, I felt calmer than I had in awhile. I was marginally buzzed when the phone rang and I got the job offer, which I gratefully accepted. And then had to call back an hour later because I had forgotten which day I was supposed to start. I blame nerves as much as the beer, though. I’m very lightweight because I rarely drink, for financial and caloric reasons.

But the money – I need new head shots and dance shots. The ones I have aren’t at all awful.

But none of them represent what I look like now. I don’t have pink in my hair anymore, and both sides of my hair are even. I’m not smiling with my mouth open in any of them, and I look just a little too severe. Renee showed me some head shots of other dancers she knew, and I know what I need to do for next time, now. I was so uncomfortable getting my head shots. It wasn’t the photographer’s fault at all. I feel strange sitting still.

As for dance photos, I have a lot, but I like to get them done as often as is reasonable and affordable. I really do like to see myself in videos and photographs. I love seeing my own movement. I love having visual evidence of what I’m capable of. I cherish the feeling of dancing so much, but it’s just that – a feeling. It’s ephemeral. It’s gone, and the photographic residue is all I have when it’s over. It’s a high, and the memory isn’t good enough.

My last few rounds of dance photos are good, but I do look a little chunky (because I was – I stopped keeping track of what I was eating which meant lots of Wendy’s chicken wraps and blended coffees) in the last batch, and the ones from before that are out of date in terms of style, technique, and hair color. I have ideas for what I want next. I want to get some nude underwear/leotard stuff and wear that, I have a lot of different ideas for the shapes I want to make.

We will see what happens, but I feel less like I’m suffocating under a wave of financial stress.


Class of the Day: Monday – Jazz with Tracy at Bodyvox. My friend Kim joined me and we realized we just might be dance soulmates. It was a good class and Tracy yelled at me some and that made me happy. 

Wednesday – Contemporary with Franco at NWDP

Thursday – Jazz with Tracy at NWDP

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