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.

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.

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!

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.

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. 

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.

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.