Friday, November 29, 2013

The naked family

      As I've mentioned before we dancers can be very open. We say what we think and how we feel with intimate detail. We touch each other in places usually reserved for couples in the privacy of their own homes. But where is the line exactly? If the conversations at the breakfast table about bowel movements, or the vagina lift first impression I give to guys in bars isn't enough, there's more. I believe there are two types of families. Naked families and non-naked families. The naked family is the family that is totally comfortable with being naked around each other. "Morning son!" says the father as he strolls into the kitchen ever so comfortably in his birthday suit to start making his breakfast of bacon, eggs, and sausage? Then there's the other type of family, more conservative. You saw your moms boobs when you were still young enough to call them dinner, but that's about as far as it went. In the ballet family, ours is definitely the former.
     With quick changes and costume malfunctions galore there's really no time for shame. All there is to do is strip off and hop on board. As a newbie this can be a bit intimidating. But the longer you're in the company the more open and comfortable you get with being naked around your colleagues in the dressing room. I'll never forget my first season, I was hiding in the corner in the girls changing room with a towel wrapped around my body as I tried to awkwardly with one hand hold the towel up and with the other pull down my leotard to my ankles and shimmy out of it. Meanwhile, this girl who'd been in the company for ages already, is chatting away about her taxes or the weather or whatever she was talking about, completely au naturel. As I struggled to remain covered up, I kept intense eye contact with her as to show that I was totally cool with it and was in no way going to look down south. She kept going, and as she gets more and more into her story she starts demonstrating exactly what she's talking about with grand gestures, jumps, and twirls. Still wondering where that line is? Yea, I was too.
     I got over the naked charade stories fast and embraced the nudist lifestyle in the changing room. We've all seen it before, we all have the same things. No big deal. I started to like this free spirit feeling. Until of course, the line was in fact crossed. I don't mind seeing naked girls walk around the changing room, hell, if you want to sew your pointe shoes and try them on stark-naked, be my guest (that actually happened too). But I really do not need to see ANYONE pee. Yep, one girl claiming that she's "too lazy to close the toilet stall door" decided that it was somehow OK to pee with the door wide open. I walked in on her a couple times and all she'd say was "Opps, sorry!" and look up at me like an innocent little puppy that just peed on your carpet and has no idea that it did anything remotely wrong. What are you supposed to do in that situation? There's no "code of conduct" for accidentally walking in on your work mate peeing, is there? I know we're open, artsy types of people but the line has definitely been crossed and I have now seen things that I cannot un-see!
     In a world where our bodies are our art form, where real men wear white tights instead of suits, and women pee in front of one another, the lines are blurry. But that's what makes the best stories and keeps life interesting. And gives me more material to write about. 
    

Thursday, November 28, 2013

Tour Life

     Tours are fun*. They can also be stressful. Traveling in a huge group one tends to expect and accept a certain amount of chaos. Even within a German ballet company. The chaos may be already factored into the schedule, but its definitely still there. There are so many things to organize and so many people to keep track of, its nearly impossible for things to run seamlessly.
     We definitely don't travel light. We have our director, his assistants, our ballet masters, our technicians, our "maske", a select few from the press department, our set, our costumes, make-up, and a ton of pointe shoes that all travel with us. Traveling together is part of the fun. We are such a wonderfully weird group of individuals, when put together we forget how to conduct ourselves in the real world. Walking down the aisle of the plane you'll see legs flying in the air, feet twirling in circular motions. Dancers congregating and stretching at the back of the plane, a free drink in hand (thank you Lufthansa), and the stewardesses yelling at us to "Please return to your seats!".
     Yes, tours are definitely fun. The second we all get to a new hotel and get our assigned rooms we get out our phones and take down each others room numbers. You know, because God forbid we should get separated from each other for a few hours! The hotels we stay in are usually pretty nice. Breakfast is a big deal, if the breakfast is good we love the hotel. If the breakfast is shit, we hate the hotel. If breakfast isn't included, just don't talk to me, I'm that upset about it and will continue to be for the rest of the tour.
     It always takes a certain amount of time before you really settle into a place and get your head around things. It's like traveling anywhere, it takes time to get your bearings. Once one person in the company discovers a cool cafe or restaurant, suddenly everyone's all over it. "Did you hear? There's a really good sushi restaurant right around the corner from the hotel. It's so good, and cheap!". Suddenly that "really good sushi restaurant" becomes our canteen. It's funny because we all pretend like we don't want to be around each other all the time. We complain about being sick of each other, but I think deep down we know that we'd actually really hate to be completely separated and alone. Especially on tour. Correction: Especially on tours to Asia.
     Asian tours are always the greatest, well, they make for the best stories anyways. "Lost in Translation" doesn't even begin to describe the looks that some people have on their faces the first time they get off the plane and arrive in China. It's definitely another world from the one we're used to. We've done class in some interesting studios. Some have been massive, so big we could fit three of our companies in one room. While others have been so teeny tiny that one can't even bend forward without hitting the person in front of them in the butt. The floors have been too hard, too slippery, too sticky. Some stages are tiny, others HUGE. The biggest thing about tour is learning how to suck it up and do your job regardless of the circumstances. Easier said than done.
     Food poisoning is always a big scandal on tours. Sorry, "on tours to Asia". There's always someone that eats the mystery beef stew and suffers the consequences later. I've actually never gotten sick on tour, I think it's probably due to my iron stomach. It seems I can eat anything. Although I tend to steer clear of the mysterious yet hilariously translated dishes that you find on some menus. "Meat muscle stupid bean sprouts" or "Meat fried cat ear/the plate" or my personal favorite "Big dump in vegetable and fork".    
     This last tour we went on was awesome. In London not much can go too terribly wrong. Besides the fact that the stage was the size of a postage stamp, the floor was too hard, and we didn't have barres for our first class in the studio and had to use a prop horse instead, it was great! There weren't any complaints about the food, no need for suggestions on places to visit. People seemed happy. I think the fact that there wasn't a language barrier helped too. No having to mime the type of animal you'd like to eat to your waiter. "Chicken. Chicken? You know? Cluck! Cluck! (insert chicken dance here)".








*What a revolutionary sentence. I realize, I'm quite the genius aren't I? ...Maybe I should just stick to ballet.

Friday, November 8, 2013

Snap, Crackle, Pop!

     Warming up is a big part of our daily routine. Every morning as I walk through the studio I see dancers sprawled in the splits stretching or throwing their legs around the air violently, all anticipating that huge pop! That hip release, that means they're ready for class to start. As I walk to my usual spot at the barre I hear a symphony of different body parts cracking away. You have The Staccato Ankle Cracks, that are usually light, rhythmic, and quite whimsical. Then you have The Deep Hip-Pops (which are usually followed by a slightly sexual "Oh yea!" and maybe a "Nice one" comment from a fellow dancer). You can achieve the same type of deep crack with The Tailbone Roll. The Tailbone Roll is the best one ever. Sometimes if you roll your tailbone on the hardwood floor you get a nice, deep spinal crack that's just orgasmic. You also have The Twisting Back Crack, which for me, starts at the top of the spine and makes a beautiful domino affect of cracks all the way down to the lower back. A spinoff of The Twisting Back Crack is The Neck Snap. Not as violent as it sounds, this crack entails simply rolling your head around in a circular motion a couple of times. Or simply taking your two hands and physically yanking your head to one side, bringing it up slowly and and then yanking it to the other. Totally normal. Totally fine. I think.
     I wish I could say that the cracking symphony only happens in the mornings but we have to warm ourselves up several times a day! In fact, if I'm sitting in one position for more than 15 minutes I start to get stiff and feel the urge to twist my back and crack my neck. The hip-pop happens once, maybe twice a day if I'm lucky. The Tailbone Roll even more rare than a solar eclipse. But the Staccato Ankle Cracks are non-stop. All day everyday. It's almost like a tick, I don't even notice that I'm doing it until someone (usually a non-dancer) points it out.
     I love seeing people's reactions to the cracking. Non-dancers are always so grossed out! I love it. That probably makes me really weird and creepy but I just find it hilarious to see people freak out at the cracking sounds. Once I get a tiny reaction from my ankle twisting cracks that's it. I take it and run. I'm like, "Oh that's nothing. Listen to this..." and then I go through the whole series of cracks, each one getting more and more intense and more gross until the person is screaming at me to make it stop! ...Love it. I know, even just typing it out now I sound like a total psycho with some freaky body cracking fetishes, but I promise I have it under control. I totally do.



DD: The 6 Step Program

     Dance has always been a huge part of my life. Training to become a professional dancer was like training for the Olympics, all the time. There really wasn't much time for anything else. I've never had a "normal" job. The closest thing to a job I ever had was babysitting for our neighbors. Which I did a total of two whole times. Usually after school I'd run straight to ballet class and wouldn't finish until late at night. By that time I'd be too tired and hungry to do anything besides eat and sleep. Sometimes I feel like I missed out on a few iconic childhood moments, but looking back at what experiences dance gave me instead, I don't regret it at all. 
     When you start something so unique at such a young age and continue to purse it as an adult you sometimes loose track of what's "normal" and what's really not. The life of a ballet dancer is a very short lived career. Regardless of injuries or not, it doesn't last forever and a lot of dancers struggle with what to do after dance. Life after dance seems so far away, until you blink and you're suddenly 15 years older trying to find a new career that's equally as fulfilling. It's hard because after so many years of doing something so special and so specific, you have no idea what it's like to work in a more "conventional" work environment. That's why I think there should be a "12 6 Step De-Dance Program" or "DD". Six essential steps that help dancers integrate into the normal world.
     Step 1. Admit that you were a dancer. If you can't work the cash register at your new job that's ok! You've been busy twirling around on your toes or lifting girls in the air. You probably don't know how to count past 8. Just admit that you haven't been to school in 100 years and therefore forgot all possible mathematical skills. No one will judge you. To your face. 
     Step 2. Recognize that you aren't alone. There are plenty of other dancers out there just like you struggling to make it in the "real world", expecting a round of applause every time they turn in an assignment on time*.
     Step 3. Examining past errors with the help of a sponsor. Oh shit, sorry. That's from another program...The next step is accepting the fact that you are not allowed to be naked in front of your work colleagues anymore. I know it took a while for you to get comfy enough in your skin to strip down in front of everyone for that quick costume change in the first place. Especially when you came to the company as a modest little apprentice. But now it's time to retire your inner nudist and accept the life of a fully clothed "normal" human being.
     Step 4. It's not going to be ok to crack your hip while you're talking to someone (see previous blog post titled "Snap, Crackle, Pop!"). Yea, none of that anymore. That's considered weird and creepy and people might mistake the cracking noise for a fart and then you'd just be known as the office farter and no one would want to talk to you anymore.
     Step 5. Accept the fact that you're going to have to learn a new set of skills. Dropping into the splits is only appropriate before ballet class or as a cool party trick, not at job interviews. Vagina lifts are now a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen. The sooner you accept this the better off you'll be.
     Step 6. The final step. Always try to concentrate on the positives in life. You don't have to shave your armpits as often! None of your work mates will (hopefully!) be touching them, so there's no need to worry about your partner talking about how hairy and sweaty your armpits are behind your back. Isn't that a relief? Just make sure to wear long sleeved shirts at all times and I'm telling you, you'll have a mighty fine life after your ballet career. You're welcome.



*We dancers applaud for everything and we constantly receive massive applause for our work from an audience. In class if someone does something well, we all applaud. If someone does something funny, we applaud. If someone does the combination alone, we clap with the beat of the music while that person is dancing. If someone falls (and they haven't injured themselves) we will most likely applaud them on their klumsyness. Newsflash: in the real world no one is going to applaud you for doing your job. "Bravo! Let's give a round of applause to Jenny who just sold a T-shirt to some random lady here at H&M. Standing ovation! She also sold some earrings!"

Ballet-isms

     I wanted to write a helpful guide for any "outsider" that might one day find themselves watching a ballet class and wondering what the hell the teacher is talking about, and how the hell all the dancers seem to understand. So I've created a list of ballet related phrases to help out those in need:
     1. "Think up to go down". This usually refers to when a dancer basically just bends their knees. There's no such thing as just bending your knees in any given position "einfach so". Once you're in a position and you are ready to descend you have to think of pulling up, then, and only then can you bend your knees. Oh and every ballet teacher knows if you're thinking it or not. It's a super power. There's no bull shitting them with this one.
     2. "Feel the floor" and "the floor is your friend". Because no one else is. No, that's not true. This usually means that you need to keep your heels on the floor while you're dancing and use your pliĆ© (the up-to-go-down knee bend thing). Not to be confused with physically lying on the floor and stroking it mid exercise. The floor isn't actually your friend. No need to feel it up. That would be weird. 
     3. "Energy! Presence!" I think these are pretty obvious. No one likes a dead face or a limp corpse dancing around the room.
     4. "Finish up." Finish the combination with your stomach in and chin up.
     5. "Feel the music". Just listen to the music and be on the friggen counts. It's really not that hard. Just do it.
     6. "Head, head, head. Yes." The dancer probably just did 3 turns in a row and landed it, hence the "Yes". The "head, head" thing is just a reminder to spot as you turn.
     7. "Opposition". I guess this goes back to the up-to-go-down thing. Opposition. Opposites. Get it?
     8. "Lengthen through the knee". Stretch your knee. It's probably bent. Simple as that.
     9. "No sickles. Fish the foot". I don't even know how to explain this. Ask me to demonstrate next time you're watching class. It has something to do with the correct positioning of the foot.
     10. "Soft arms". Make your arms less tense looking. I know you're probably tensing every single muscle in your body just to get through the exercise but make your arms look like your frolicing through a meadow of flowers. It's all about smoke and mirrors.  
     11. "Shit off the shoe". This one might just be a Stuttgart Ballet original but it basically just means "push the floor really hard with your foot as if you're wiping a piece of shit off your shoe". Others might say "strike a match on the ground", see where I'm going with this? No? Me either.
     12. "Slice it." "Work it." "Feel it". No this is not a Daft Punk song, its a ballet-ism.
     13. "Don't throw it away!" Meaning; finish the combination well. Don't just fall out of it and give up. Try to save what you can out of the spazzy movement you just did because on stage there are no "do-overs".
     14. "Articulate the feet". The way we use our feet is a huge part of dance and especially ballet. We have to always have them under control and strong to support all of the movement we do. "Articulating the feet" means being in total control of your feet and using them thoroughly.
     15. "Get out of the mirror." This one refers to how we shouldn't constantly be watching ourselves in the mirror as we dance. Dancers love to watch themselves in the mirror. But it's mostly because we are constantly correcting ourselves and finding things that we don't like and need to correct. It's less in a narcissistic kind of way and more in a self-loathing kind of way. You know, the healthy kind.
      There are many other "Ballet-isms" or corrections that we hear all the time. We all know what we have to do but sometimes we just need a little reminder, and sometimes that reminder can make all the difference. Sometimes a simple "fish the foot" is all it takes.  

Sunday, November 3, 2013

"Gimme the one!"

     Backstage. Oh the drama of backstage. Combine uncomfortable costumes with bright lights, a bundle of nerves mixed with that weighing feeling of pressure, ballet dancers with a bad conductor, and you have a recipe for disaster. The audience has no idea what's actually going on backstage during a show. It's stressful! Timing is everything and everything is set on counts. If you miss an entrance you're screwed. There are quick changes, wardrobe malfunctions, set adjustments, musical ques and tons of other things to worry about.
     Knowing counts helps a lot with entrances. It's really obvious if a dancer comes on stage way too early or too late. The "Oh Shit!" expression on their face says it all. It's such a bad feeling. One dancer was so paranoid that she would miss her entrance, she asked everyone around her to count out loud backstage. "Gimme the one ok? GIMME THE ONE!" I'm sure even the technicians backstage knew the counts by the end of run of shows, but she still needed the "ONE". Stress makes people crazy. There's a lot of yelling and cursing behind the scenes. A lot of which is directed at the conductor. If the music is too slow or too fast it can really screw you up as a dancer. I think its more mental because I remember once complaining about how "slow the music was" one night, only to have another dancer point out that we were dancing to a CD for this specific production. So yea. That was awkward. But other times it IS actually the conductors fault and it's infuriating. Sometimes if the music is really off, mid variation the ballerina might turn her back to the audience for a second and let out a little, "Seriously?!". We all know what she's talking about, and we all feel her pain.
     It's really important for a dancer to be musical. Music and dance go hand in hand. But sometimes we need little "cheats" that help us to hear the counts of the music. If a big group of dancers are dancing together and have to be in perfect unison, there might be one or more dancers in the group that are in charge of quietly singing out the number of the counts for everyone else to follow. It usually sounds like, "One.....four.........seven!". The more people aren't following, the more aggressive the numbers sound. "FIVE!......EIGHT!.....TWO!....UGH!". Hey, we've all fallen victim to counts, sometimes the music can be really tricky and hard to hear. For me, I don't actually like dancing with counts, I prefer to just listen to the music. "Feel the music". Usually I can hear it, but then sometimes I can be completely tone deaf. Actually, you know what, you should probably just gimme the 'one' just in case.

Doctor Stage

     There's no secret to how hard we push our bodies. Ask any physio therapist that has ever worked with a dancer and they'll tell you. Our bodies go through hell and back and we rarely take care of it until it's really bad. From sore muscles to broken bones, from one week off work to a full year. You name it, it's probably happened. There really isn't so much humor in injuries. We all know, tragedy + time = comedy. But still, it's really not funny when someone injures themselves on stage, in class, or even walking on the street. (Ok, I'll admit. It's mildly funny when a dancer goes off because they've twisted their ankle walking on the street. I mean how is it that we can dance around on our toes all day but we can't walk on cobble stones? I know. I know. I'm going straight to hell.) Anyways, It's usually pretty heart breaking for a dancer not to be able to dance. I, for example, can't hide when I'm in pain. I will let everyone know verbally or through overly dramatic massaging movements on and around the point of said injured spot. I will milk the shit out my injury so that everyone knows that I'm dying a slow and painful death, but I'm still in class. Suffering in silence? What? No way. I'm such a drama queen that way. But some dancers are incredible. They'll literally dance an entire ballet (with a smile on their face!) come off stage and, oops, turns out they dislocated their knee in that last jump. No joke. It's that intense. The audience has no idea. That's why when those soccer players get kicked in the shins or whatever and are curled up in a ball whining I'm like, come on! Get up and stop crying! Go do 32 fouettes with no toe nails and then maybe we'll talk.
     It's very rare to find a dancer that isn't in some sort of pain at all times. It constantly feels like once one pain starts to go away, there's suddenly a new one that creeps up on you from behind with a kitchen knife and a 'Scream' mask. "What's your favorite scary movie Sidney?". Boom! Tendonitis in your achilles. I have to say though, there is something amazing about the stage. Once you get on stage suddenly all the pain goes away. My mom calls it "Doctor Stage", and it's true! You could be on crutches, no, in a wheelchair paralyzed from the waist down but the second you get on that stage you forget everything and just dance. Ok, that last one was a bit of an exaggeration. But you get what I'm saying. We can barely walk up the stairs in the morning to get to class yet when there's a show suddenly all the muscle aches and pains, all the over-stretched this, that, and the other are healed and you just go out there and do it. It's either that or all the Advil we're all hopped up on. Either or.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

The "Fritz"

     One frequently asked question we dancers tend to get a lot is how we started dancing. The girls answer is usually, "Well I was about two years old and my mom took me to ballet class and I got to wear a pink tutu and a tiara and the rest is history!" ...The guy version? That's where it gets interesting. The gay guy version is almost identical to the girl version. Just replace the "my mom took me" with "I made my mom take me" and you're golden (or sparkly). Out of all the variations or versions on the "how I started ballet" stories, no one beats the straight guys. The straight guys have the best stories ever. They're so beautifully random and casual, some so unabashedly accidental that it makes me jealous I never had a "meet-cute" moment with ballet. I honestly don't even remember my first class!
     In the pre-ballet classes there's always that one little boy surrounded by a room full of girls in pink chiffon and rhinestones. He's always "Fritz" (the brother of "Clara" in The Nutcracker), then later as he gets older he's "The Prince" (in Every Single Ballet You Do). At the end of the day, he's probably the only one in the entire class at that tiny private ballet school in the suburbs that might actually have a chance at making it professionally anyways. So how did he get there?
     His father was a world champion wrestler, mother was a stay at home mom. He had an older sister who never took a ballet class in her life. His parents wanted him to have an after school activity so they sent him to music classes which were two hours away by bus from his house. The first day of class he gets off the bus and walks into what he thinks is the music room, but turns out it was a ballet class! I guess after only a few lessons, not only did he realize he was in the wrong class, but he found himself totally absorbed in the whole ballet world. He hasn't left since. 
     Other ballerino's were inspired by celebrity male performers. Baryshnikov? Nureyev? Nope. The king of pop himself, Micheal Jackson. One guy in the company used to dance around his living room to "Thriller" and "Smooth Criminal", knocking over furniture and just generally being a rambunctious little kid. One day his mother, who'd had enough with all of the broken lamps in her home, decides to send him to ballet class to help with his suspected hyperactive disorder. After a couple classes he was hooked, and applied that same amount of energy into the physically demanding work of ballet school. I'm honestly not sure if it helped or hindered the situation though, he's still totally crazy and hyperactive. But at least now he gets paid for it!
     Although ballet is traditionally associated with girls in pink tutus flying around, being lifted in the air, it's the guys in white tights behind us that make our work look effortless. It doesn't matter how they started, we're just thankful they did. The Nutcracker just wouldn't be the same without The Fritz. True story bro.


Monday, July 15, 2013

Strugs (Struggles)

     As mentioned before, I have a certain amount of “white girl problems” or “strugs” as I like to call them nowadays, that I just can’t seem to shake no matter how ridiculously shallow or unimportant I try to tell myself they are. These strugs could also be partially, if not directly, correlated to the fact that it’s the end of the season and myself and everyone else around me at work seem to be dealing with a lethal case of “endoftheseasonitis”.
     I wasn’t intending on using this blog as a sort of outlet to release some inner stress I may or may not have bundled up deep down inside. You know what I mean, like how therapists tell their patients to write in a journal to get all of their thoughts out on paper so that they don’t one day wake up and decide to shoot up their school.  Sorry. Too soon? Anyways, I never thought about writing as a way of expressing myself because, until now, dance was pretty much the only form of expression I knew. Which is ironic seeing as it’s a form of expression solely based on movement and no words, whereas writing is purely about the art of words. Oh the irony. It's killing you isn't it? So as a way of combining these two interests of mine I sort of ended up writing about what I know. Which happens to be a lot about ballet. Its funny how looking back on some of the posts one might assume that either A. I’m this weird ballet girl that one day just decided to write down all the random thoughts that seem to be running around in her head. Which probably means that therapy could also be a good option. Or B. I just got a lotta strugs that I wanna share because ultimately I find my world to be really funny, in a “glass-in-the-pointe-shoe-if-you-ever-cross-me-bitch” kinda way.
     Originally for this entry I wanted to make a list of cleaver and witty ballet and/or just plain white girl strugs that I have. But then I kind of went off into this random tangent about why I started writing, and about how I may or may not need therapy. So I think I’m just going to leave it on that note for now, and save my OCD listing thing for another time. Ain't nobody got time for that!

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Fuck you chocolate.

     I don't understand how some people can be so disciplined when it comes to chocolate, or alcohol for that matter. But right now I want to talk about chocolate because I feel like this needs discussing. Chocolate for me is like a guy that promises to call you or text you but then never does. It's a lying, cheating, son of a b****! Chocolate's all, "No worries baby. All will be well. You are a strong, amazing, and confident person. You deserve to eat me AND my friends!". Then Boom! That bitch turns around and gives you cellulite! I mean, what the fuck? You're supposed to comfort and console me in my time of need and then piss off before you turn into fat on my ass and take like two whole months at the gym to burn off! It's so deceiving. Pretending to be all "healthy" these days. Oh yea, apparently dark chocolate is now "filled with antioxidants that are actually good for you". So now every girl is just pretending to like dark chocolate when we all secretly are craving the milk and white chocolate caramel hot fudge brownie nougat cellulite amazingness. How is that fair? All I was looking for was a little pick me up from my stressful life. Nothing crazy. I didn't pull out a deep fried snickers ice cream to go with my coffee. It was just a normal sized bar of "healthy" dark chocolate. I didn't mean to eat the entire thing and then a bag of Kinder Schoko-Bons. It just happened! I swear it's like crack! Once you start you can't stop no matter how much you tell yourself "this shit ain't good!". IT'S SO GOOD!
     Look, I don't think its that much to ask that chocolate have the same nutritional value as spinach. If it did, the entire world would be a much healthier place. I think we'd all benefit from that. In fact, if I had a magic lamp and had only three wishes I'd make that my number 1. You know, for the greater good of all mankind... Ok, I'll admit chocolate is not the healthiest thing in the world and it probably never will be. But is it so much to ask for something comforting, warm and rich without sounding like a goldigger lookin' for her man? Isn't that what every hard working girl wants? Just something to look forward to at the end of the day (or at the end of every meal) that's not going to have so many unwanted consequences? I feel like God hated girls and was like "Yea, let's make all of them crave chocolate once a month and then make chocolate the most fattening and addictive thing EVER!". Good lookin' out dude. Are you happy now? You get to hear us bitch and complain all day long about how fat we think we are. All it would take would be one wave of your magic wand and suddenly chocolate is good and broccoli is a no go. That's all I'm asking for! Oh, but while you're at it, just make french fries healthy too ok? Just for the sake of all mankind. Or just for America. Or just for me.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Spit, Shit, and Break a leg.

     There's a lot of preparation that goes into putting on a show that the audience has no idea about. The hours of rehearsal, the costume fittings, the hair and makeup. Not to mention the emotional breakdowns, the tears, the sweat, the drama of someone getting injured a day before the show and their second cast freaking out because they have to jump in for them after only two rehearsals. All details that when added up together, should make a pretty seamless show. There are not only these standard types of routines to prepare for a show, but also some other less "traditional" ones. Its funny how I never thought any of these things were weird until I took a step back and looked at them through an outsiders eyes.
     1. Don't wish me good luck. In Germany I learned that you say "Toi Toi Toi". Its usually said really quickly and incomprehensibly, as to add some dramatic flair and ultimate confusion to anyone from the outside world. The response is then "Vielen Vielen". Pretty straight forward if you speak German. If not then it just sounds like you have some kind of weird stutter. One of the ballet mistresses will combine a "Toi Toi Toi" with a hug and a little spit over the dancers shoulder. It's a special moment which has only happened to me once, but it's one that I'll treasure always.
     2. Mierda. Merde. Basically just means "Shit" in Spanish or French. If someone says "Mucho Mierda" or just plain "Merde" your not allowed to say anything back. Or else.
     3. The chocolates. Usually if you have a big premier, its customary to bring your partner or your fellow dancers good luck chocolates or sweets. These are also called "Toi Toi Toi's". There is a fine line, however, between a nice gesture and an obvious sabotage. Giving out too many Toi Toi Toi chocolates and you start to look like the witch from Snow White trying to poison everyone with empty calories and fat. The best Toi Toi Toi I ever got was a beer that I drank right before going on stage for good luck*.
     4. Praying to... God? I honestly don't even know how many dancers actually believe in God. As a group we generally don't tend to be very conservative (flamboyant, whimsical, flaming are all words that come to mind before conservative). I think a lot of us are agnostic or athiest until about 5 minutes before the show. Then suddenly we all believe in God. Or something.
     5. Good luck kiss on a pointe shoe. Yep, I saw it happen. It was one dancers own personal tradition. She would kiss each one of her pointe shoes right before going on stage. Now that's love. Or something.
     6. Another guy before every show would touch the stage and then touch his forehead. I don't really know what else to say about this.      
     7. Carbing up. I've heard many different theories on diets and foods that help provide energy before a big show or rehearsal. One dancer swears by sandwiches. For her that's all she would eat before. Another dancer would eat an entire bowl of pasta "for energy". Rice seems to be a pretty popular choice. So trying to follow this kind of theory, as an apprentice, I made the rookie mistake of eating a burrito before a show. What? It's like a wrap! ... No its not. Not at all. Such an epic fail. The costume department had to bring me a bigger dress for the first act of 'Sleeping Beauty' because I was so bloated and full I couldn't fit into mine! True story bro. To this day, I've never eaten a burrito since**.
     I guess in a way I can also be a bit superstitious. Not like the "don't walk under a ladder" or "don't open an umbrella inside" kind (I even HAVE a black cat at home that crosses my path all the time and I'm totally fine. Knock on wood). But I also have little things that I have to do before a show just in case. You never know what can happen with live theater. It's better to have these little weird traditions or rituals that help ease some nerves or stress. I mean who knows what could happen if forehead guy doesn't touch the stage before curtain.



 *That totally didn't happen. I drank it right after the show and got a tad drunk from being so thirsty and dehydrated. Like I said, Best. Toi Toi Toi. Ever!
 **Also not true. Burritos are like my third favorite food of all time. 


Friday, June 7, 2013

The Mysterious Slippery Floor

      I think one of the biggest mysteries of our company, or at least as long as I've been here, has been the mystery of the slippery floor. Since I have joined the company they have completely changed the floor two or possibly three times. Each time trying a different brand or a different style of floor or something. I honestly have no idea what the actual difference is between the floors seeing as I'm not a floor expert. Or floorist? Floorologist? Anyways, there are many different conspiracy theories as to why the floor gets these slippery patches that many find to be absolutely infuriating while I find it to be mildly hilarious!
     Reason A. Socks. For some reason, someone decided, that wearing socks on the marley floor made it especially slippery. So now those dancers that used to wear socks at barre have been banned, or should I say shunned, from wearing anything other than ballet flats or pointe shoes. If the bitch stares that say, "It's all YOUR fault!" weren't terrifying enough to make you never want to wear socks again, I think a few dancers were actually asked to refrain from wearing them due to floor slipperage. Yes, slipperage. What?
     Reason B. The cleaning ladies are out to get us. Every morning there's a team of cleaning women that come in early to clean the theater. They clean it all from dressing rooms, to toilets, to studios. That's were the trouble starts. No one knows what product they use to clean the floors with, but many are convinced that its hydro-slipperage enhancer. It has to be! How else would you explain all the slipping and falling off our legs? Hydro-slipperage. Obviously!
     Reason C. For those that might be a bit skeptical about the cleaning lady hydro-slipperage conspiracy theory, I have one more for you that you are not going to believe. Weather! Yep, I remember it was after one girl slipped and fell to the ground exceptionally hard and dramatically, that someone actually suggested that it was all because of the weather and the humidity. Apparently the floor "absorbs the moisture from the air" and becomes an ice skating rink-like death zone! It's a dangerous job, but someone's gotta do it. Ballerinas and Ballerinos, putting our lives on the line everyday for the sake of the arts. No big deal.

Monday, June 3, 2013

Just blame it on the weather

     Coming from California where the weather is always beautiful and sunny, I never thought twice about how much it can affect your mood. I think it was my second or third winter in Germany that someone told me about Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). I remember thinking, "Oh my god! That's a thing? That explains everything!". So ever since then I decided to blame all of my white girl problems on the weather. "The weather makes me tired". Its not because I went out partying this weekend that I'm exhausted. No, its the rain. "It's too cold to work, my feet are frozen and my muscles aren't getting warm today". It has nothing to do with the fact that I overslept and missed class this morning, its the snows fault. "I wanted to go for a jog today, but then it started raining". Oh well, I guess I'll make some pancakes instead. "The rain is making my hair frizzy!". I should just go back to bed, my day is ruined.
     Not only do I blame the weather for my problems in winter, but summer can also be a bitch! "The heat makes my feet swollen which makes it impossible to squeeze them into pointe shoes". Im-poss-ible. "I've had a headache for the entire class, it must be from the heat. I'm obviously dehydrated". I'm obviously dehydrated, yet too lazy to go to the canteen to buy a bottle of water. "I'm not fat, I'm just really swollen today because of the weather". It has nothing to do with the pizza and bottle of wine I had last night. "It's too sunny today, its making the studios unbearably hot". Life can be so hard sometimes. "It sucks that there's nice weather today, because I kind of feel like staying home and watching a movie. But now I have to go out and make the most of it". I think I've actually said something along those lines.
     Another thing I blame the weather for is my eye color. Once someone asked me what color my eyes were and I said that they change colors depending on the weather. If its grey and raining they're usually blue but if its sunny and warm they're green. Is that even physically possible?! I think I just made it up and kept telling people that that's what happens and eventually I started to genuinely believe it! It wasn't until someone pointed out to me that I blame a lot of shit on the weather that I realized, I guess I'm just really lazy. Which I also blame on the weather.
 

Sunday, June 2, 2013

That awkward moment when... (the ballet version)

That awkward moment when...
-you know your ballet shoes smell really bad but there is nothing you can do so you blame it on someone else.
-your partners sweat gets all over you and you have to pretend like your totally fine with it when deep down you're DYING for a shower.
-someone catches you "smell checking" the pits of your warm up t-shirt before you put it on.
-the principal ballerina has lipstick on her teeth but no one has the balls to tell her.
-you run into one of your ballet masters outside of the theater and you realize you have nothing to talk about so you make awkward chit chat about asparagus and how excited you are that its back in season.
-you thought rehearsal was in the upstairs studio so you waited there for half an hour before realizing no one else was showing up because they were all in the downstairs studio.
-someone has nipple sweat stains.
-someone is wearing your leotard but you don't remember lending it to them.
-people think that "casted" is a word. It's "cast".
-you hear that someone got the stomach flu and lost a bunch of weight and you're kinda jealous!
-the new girl doesn't wear deodorant.
-the fact that I just had to look up how to spell "deodorant" because "deodorent" just didn't look right.
-you accidentally glue your eye lashes together while trying to put on fake eye lashes.
-you have to ask the person sitting next to you in the changing room who's teaching class every single morning.
-you have to dance with someone that you don't really like as a partner but you have to pretend to be excited about it when the cast comes out.
-you're around 2 partners that are getting frustrated with each other and therefor start to dance really aggressively while still having to act like they are in love.
-you completely lose your balance and fall out of a turn onto the floor and people clap for you because you were so spastic.
-you realize that coming to class 15 minutes before the class begins is really late.
-you had a shitty class because you didn't like your leotard.
-you had an amazing class because you liked your leotard, and you probably felt skinny.

It's all about the bran.

     As ballet dancers we tend to be very open with one another. We pretty much call it as we see it, and we aren't afraid to say whats on our minds, at all times. Makes sense seeing as we spend so much time together, and the amount of body contact we have with each other makes us feel very comfortable with one another (See previous post titled "Vagina Lifts"). But where is the line, one might ask? It's hard to know. There are a few moments that are definitely in that grey area. For example, a very common topic of discussion on tour, and especially tours to Asia, seems to be the topic of bowel movements. It is completely normal for a group of dancers to be sitting together at breakfast discussing when was the last time they all shat, what they ate to aid in the shitting process, and how they hoped the bran cereal and black coffee combination will work its magic soon. You can always tell who is having troubles by their breakfast selection at the hotel buffet. While some swear by the black coffee and cigarette combination, non smokers will generally load up on fibrous cereals, dried prunes and Activia. After asking how a person is doing, a common, and totally normal, follow up question may be "Did you shit yet?". Then depending on the persons response you are either happy for them, or very very sorry. If someone stands up abruptly from the breakfast table and says, "I gotta go", we all know exactly what they mean and we wish them well.
     Not only are the discussions between dancers very detailed and often times overly personal, they are also very animated. We wont just tell you what's going on, we'll probably get up and mime the entire thing.  Like the time I accidentally touched my best friend's boyfriend's penis. Ok I didn't really touch it, I just thought that would be a funny way of starting a story. What actually happened was that I was trying to explain to him where exactly I had torn the psoas muscle in my hip. Forgetting that he isn't a dancer and isn't used to being touched around that area by someone that isn't his girlfriend, I went in to show him the exact spot where my injury was on his body. Which just so happened to be a bit East of his crown jewels. As I was going in for the touch, saying "It hurts right here...", he immediately jumps back in total shock before I could even register what the problem was! Oh yea, I guess it is kind of inappropriate to touch your best friend's boyfriend's penis isn't it? Sorry I'm a dancer, we don't really understand boundaries.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Vagina Lifts

     Sometimes I like telling people that I'm a ballet dancer. It's definitely an instant conversation starter. People always want to know your story. "So did you start when you were a baby? Do you really dance around on your toes? Are all the girls total bitches?" Yes, yes, and hell yes! My favorite question lately has been, "So is your life like Natalie Portman's in Black Swan?" Umm... Seriously? I feel like saying, "Why yes, in fact it is! Before shows I usually warm up, put on my costume and make up, stab myself with a piece of glass, have minor hallucinations and then turn into a giant bird and die! Just another day in the office. There's always two types of reactions you get after telling someone you are a dancer. The girl reaction: "Aww I used to do ballet when I was a little girl!" Yep, I did too. I'm just still doing it for some fucking reason. Then there's the guy reaction: "Woah cool! You must be really flexible. Can you do the splits?" Yes I can you pervert. I also sometimes get lifted into the air by my vagina if that turns you on even more! ...It usually doesn't. If I really don't feel like starting a conversation with the person I'll just say I'm a student. Sometimes it works but then other times it backfires because when asked what I study, I freeze. I haven't been a student since I was 16! College wasn't even a consideration for this ballet bunhead. I don't know the first thing about majors, or minors, or bachelor degrees or whatever. So I usually just say that I'm studying History, which should end the conversation right then and there. With History no one ever wants to know when you started studying History, or if you spend most of your time in the library studying History, or if your fellow Historian colleagues are total bitches. History just sounds like the most boring subject on earth that not even your Turkish taxi driver taking you to the airport is going to bother you with a follow up question on your great academic research of the past. That conversation, is History. Ba-dum-bum Ching!