random chatter: karma, flying, and even more questions

1. This was a helluva week! Exciting. Exhausting. Frustrating. I'm rundown today. I didn't dance this week and that always puts me in a funky mood, sort of irritated and punchy. I finally exhausted all of my patience with a coworker who's personality tests my buddhahood daily. Everyone tip-toes around her. Even the higher-ups find themselves bowing down to her. This week, I gave up and gave back! And now she and I are not on speaking terms. Bump that! Just one less person to have to say hello to in the morning! Oy! Where does she get off?! Somebody needs to knock that sloppy (sic) off her damn high horse for real. Moving on...

2. That I didn't get Misnomer is starting to wear on me. Not because I really wanted that Company, but because I was so close to my dream. I know it's better this way, because it's even more clear to me that I would not have been a good fit for the Company, but I want to be dancing. And when I'm sitting around not dancing and I have to deal with the uppity fools I work with, I get on edge. So, I'm back on my grind, looking for that next audition, chanting for work and good karma.

3. I visited SLAM (Streb's homebase in Brooklyn) on Wednesday to take a rad trapeze class (pictures coming soon!) and decided not to go for the Streb audition later this month. I'm definitely not strong enough yet to fake my way through the stuff they'll be asking of me. Plus, it'll be a three-day audition that would force me to miss two days of pilates training, a day of work and another audition that I'm a lot more confident about. It doesn't seem like a worthwhile sacrifice. But, lucky me, because there were some technical issues with the trapeze that stopped the class for an hour and even though when all was corrected the crew stayed an hour later to teach the class anyway, I got a free class gift certificate! So I'm going back again in the next week or two. Fun!

4. I haven't seen Phil since June... about three months. He's been hitting me up constantly this last week. I'm pretty much ready to let go. I think he doesn't get that. The rest are starting to fall back... so strange. I think I'm repelling them. Because I don't feel so successful anymore and my cockiness is waning? Maybe.

5. It's hard to see people I danced with growing up or who are my age (or younger) become really successful dancers, while I'm struggling to find my way. I try not to compare because I know each one of us is different, with different strengths and different paths, but it's hard not to be envious. I want to be dancing full-time. I want to be a successful, admired, talked-about performer. So what am I doing? Am I doing it right? Am I making good decisions? These have been some of my rush hour thoughts all week. It's so busy in here!

View blog reactions

On: Suppressing Ego + Controlling Karma

I was reprimanded in rehearsal last week. For being scatter brained. My explanation, if I weren't too chicken to talk back:

I'm working on my first residency. In a week's time, I've done everything wrong and for a moment I felt like I'd set myself up as the big fat joke of the bunch; the "late one", the "slow one", the "one to roll your eyes at". There have been so many challenges for me to work out since I began this project and the one that's been the hardest for me is suppressing my own ego. It was instinctual for me to believe that the choreographer had it out for me and that I wasn't good enough for the work or that I'm marked for suffering and I have a right to be bitter all the time.

In reality, in the grand scheme of things, I'm just a speck of sand in a maestro's sandbox. We are a orchestra, cast and crew of nearly 100over 175 for two separate operas that both need to be choreographed, staged, and well rehearsed in just two weeks. Where I am placed in a sequence or on the stage is more a matter of the director's whim and my sheer luck than one of my talent. My sister said it best: I have no reason to prove myself; I'm already here. I just need to do my best work and be grateful for the opportunity to do so. While spending so much energy analyzing the other dancers' body language or the choreographer's offbeat comments, wondering how everyone remembered the choreography so well or why she got cast as such and such instead of me, I was doing myself a disservice. I could have put all that concentration into learning my roles and perfecting my craft.

This week is better. I'm happier this week. Now that I've more or less gotten over myself, I want to work on my good-sportsmanship. I'm good at fighting the urge to hate on people... sometimes... most of the time, what I'm terrible at is expressing sympathy when my hateration translates into someone else's bad karma (ie: self-entitled diva loses leading role to snarky mini diva; huge chunk of choreography gets cut by director while choreographer helplessly looks on; borderline dits just getting by on her dewy-eyed looks removed from dance for lack of talent). I should feel compassion. I'm trying to put myself in their shoes. Karma (or my nascent telepathic sense) is a bitch.

View blog reactions

On: losing my last ally + good karma

1. I lost my last neutral ally at work yesterday. She's an Asian-American musical theater actress adopted by white folks. When I first met her, I got the sense she was someone I could relate to because like me, she's the only girl repping her people in the office; like me, her dance aesthetics spans further than what the school offers; like me, she's a no bullshit, low drama, "fuck it I'll do it myself" type of lady and she's easy to talk to and joke with.

It never occurred to me that the sort of out of pocket comments I catch coming out of the mouths of my white coworkers would ever come out of hers. Because she was my neutral ally. Neutral in that we weren't bound by our sex or our color or departments, but by our mutual respect and understanding of the other's daily fight. We can read each other's silences and dead pan expressions and side eyes. It's nice to have that sort of relationship in the workplace. Especially in this particular work place at a time when I'm coming to a crossroad and any little sly comment I overhear has me wanting to give up and get out. So you can imagine the remorse I felt yesterday afternoon when, in retelling a not so funny story, my neutral ally referred to another dancer and myself as "blackies". I questioned it before realizing what I'd heard and when she repeated it, I knew I'd lost one of the last things keeping me sane at that job.

A few weeks ago, I confronted my boss about using "nigger" in my presence. She's tall white mid-aged Bay area bred women who mentions at least once a day that she graduated from Columbia and at least once daily that she doesn't feel good. Working with her can be a struggle in keeping my positive outlook. She preaches positivity ad nauseam, but can be such a fiercely negative person. She talks shit about students and other coworkers. She's an attention whore and a bit of a megalomaniac. She regularly sticks her nose in shit that has nothing to do with her. She complains more than I can bear most days. She has a tendency to overreact and jump to conclusions which completely baffles me; don't you eventually learn why you shouldn't do that? All this of a Landmark Forum person. BUT... but she is a very good boss. She acknowledges me and rewards me. She's honest and open and I can say she's one of the best bosses I've had the pleasure of working with. She's been very supportive of my artistic ventures and was largely responsible for the total transformation of work ethic. I've learned so much about life and career and love and I actually owe a lot of my happiness to her.

Now, with all that said, it's tricky, raising the topic of racism and language with her and in a place like this. She suffers from that Carson Daily syndrome; Carson liked to switch up his host speak depending on the day's guest; that is, hood talk to the rappers, SAT language to politicians, and milquetoast to the teeny boppers. She likes to think she's down, which is fine, but remember that you're white and I'm black and you have no business saying "nigger" in my presence, no matter the context. I'm a fan of Quest and I think "Sucka Nigga" is a beautifully written etymological study of word. I don't need to hear you sing the lyrics word for fucking word right in front of me. I don't think you're hip. I don't think you're down. Yes, I do know the kind of person you are; like me you're curious about the world and it's people and their ways. But unlike me, you're not in the position to know why a filter is necessary when exploring. You've never had a noose drawn around your neck in a class photo. No one's ever called you "darky" or "nigger" or "nappy head hoe" or "black bitch". You're ignorant to my struggle. This is the same woman who was surprised by the number of black people who work at a health food market near the school and how nice and seemingly educated they are. The same women who says she doesn't know how to tell if a black man is handsome. I get it when it when she says she doesn't mean any harm and that she's just wants to know, but that doesn't make her comments any less out of pocket. And refraining from a word or being more aware of your words doesn't change the ideas you've got wired in you about a group of people.

This is my work environment. What is it about me that makes people think they can be that comfortable around me?

2. My wallet fell out of my bike basket yesterday morning as I was speeding to catch my train. There is a can collector who circles the train station every Friday. Sometimes, he talks out loud to no one in his strange voice about whatever is on his mind. He never bothers me much so I just ignore him and keep it moving. Well this strange old man was the one who found my wallet and handed it to the taxi stand at the train station. When I see him again, I going to thank him graciously and befriend him.

View blog reactions