It’s Been a While…

Several months to be exact. I have not put pen to paper, or finger to key since I graduated. It’s not because I graduated and was wildly successful and had a slew of job offers pouring in. Writing was something I just couldn’t do.  As it stands now, I am an unemployed college graduate, with mounds of debt and virtually no income. The crazy thing is that most days that doesn’t even bother me. The last several months have been spent dancing, and if you’ve read any posts before this one, you’ll know that dancing is my air. I dance 6 days a week, 20-30 hours a week, and I love it. 

While I love my life, the ability I have to come and go as I please, and do what I love every day, I talk to a friend (or five) who disagree with my lifestyle. These friends are masters of making me feel small and inadequate because I have very little desire to have a “real job” right now. Dancing pays, but not what I could get doing something else, and money has never really mattered to me. It’s difficult though, when the people who are supposed to love you would rather judge you rather than support you.

Every day as I layer my sweats over my leotard, I stare in the mirror. I stare and I tell myself “you are the luckiest girl alive, every day, you get to wake up and do what you love. Every night, you get in bed and are completely happy with the day that’s ended.” I have to remind myself of that often. 

Auditioning: The Life of A “Working” Dancer

Open calls have to be the worst thing. There are two hour registrations that begin at 7 a.m. My best friend and I arrived at the Georgia World Congress Center at 7:30 on a Sunday morning. The weather was perfect, as were our faces, and the faces of every other hopeful.

We pay our money, receive our numbers, and stretch as quickly as we can. We are escorted into the ballroom along with 400 other women. We are greeted and then taught four 8-counts of choreography at lightening speed. Then we are put into lines in a fashion that reminds me of a cattle drive and dance in groups of six until it everyone has gone. Some fall flat on their butts, or completely forget choreography and just flail.

Then there is the waiting.

When I Grow Up

As graduation rapidly approaches, I find myself bombarded with questions about what’s next.

“What’s your major,” they say, with wide eyes full of expectancy.

“I don’t know,” as I confess my confusion about the near future their faces change from expectant to sympathetic.

I am a Writing Major with a dual minor in Psychology and English. When I came to college, I had dreams of being a dance major. Dreams that were quickly doused by a practical mother. She was convinced that the life of a dancer was not a steady one, and lead me to the more practical occupation of an educator. I love kids, I enjoy developing relationships with them, and helping them be mature and responsible blah blah blah. Long story short, for four semesters  I was an Education major, which I hated. I was so bored, so bored. The classes couldn’t hold my attention, so I skipped them. I thought about transferring and majoring in dance somewhere else, but my mom always encouraged me to be practical. Fast forward past another two semesters of having no major at all, I changed my major. She wasn’t too happy, but at that point I was ready to get out of here.

Now here we are, 38 days away from graduation day and I know what I would like to do. If I had my way, I would teach at a performing arts school, but that has nothing to do with my current major. I love to dance. I’d do it for free, but don’t tell anyone.  I have no idea how to even begin in that field. I’ll start by applying to grad schools. M.F.A in Dance here I come.

Encore! Encore!

After six weeks of rehearsals, and toiling with music and choreo, it is finally time. It is Thursday night and the small performance space is packed. We all peek out from our makeshift dressing room and squeal in unison. Ladies in orange, green, purple, blue, red, brown, and yellow. Seven college students take off themselves in the makeshift dressing room and put on our colors. Nameless, but not voiceless. We slip off shoes and socks and teeter at the door. I’m not sure if we shiver because of the cold tile we stand on or from nerves.

“Five minutes to curtain,” the Director sticks his smiling face in, looking like a proud daddy.

“Thank you five,” we giggle and circle up for a prayer.

Prayers are sent up, nerves are released, house lights are out. The intro music begins and we all make our way to our spots, each of us scattered through the audience.

“Dark phrases of womanhood,” she begins.

It is effortless. The words all flow out, as if they belong to us. On and off, up and down. We twirl and cry and scream. The house stands and claps, we bow.

If you missed For Colored Girls last month, you’ll be able to see it May 4th at the Averitt Center. I had a great time acting in it. If you missed or if you already saw it you should definitely come check it out.

And They Keep on Coming…# 2

An attempt at a poem. No prompts, just random lines from my journal.

The Audition

1 and 2 and point and flex

A number pinned on my back

3 and 4 and flex and point

In a room with 24 other numbers

5 and 6 and  plié and stretch

24 perfect buns

24 pointe shoes with perfect bows

7 and 8

and then there’s me

Sleepless in Statesboro

It’s 4 a.m. and I can’t sleep. I don’t know if it’s because I’m nervous about my play or simply because I simply get restless sometimes. Tomorrow–well today–is opening night for the production of For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf by Ntzake Shange. I choreographed the show and I have a role in it as well. It is the first time I have choreographed something and have practically been given full creative control. The Director allowed me to find my own music and incorporate movement how I saw fit. This is also my first time choreographing for my peers for an event as big as this. As always, I am wishing I had more time. I never think my dances are finished. I wouldn’t trade this anxious feeling for the world though. I love dance because it is consistent and nothing else makes me feel the way I feel when I am dancing.

Shange’s poetry speaks to women everywhere. When I auditioned, I read the book and realized I have been at least 3 or 4  of these women at some point in my adult life. I didn’t know I’d fall in love with like I did. At first, it felt weird to stand up and admit these things (the poems range from abortion to childhood love). I felt like I was telling on myself when I auditioned.

This is my random 4 a.m. rant. A peak into my internal dialogue. I figured if I couldn’t get the internal conversations to stop tonight that I might as well give them a space to play.

Top 10 Before 26

1. Dance in a company as a principle dancer

2. Publish 8 pieces in various Lit. Mags

3. Choreograph a major show

4. Get accepted into NYU Tisch School of the Arts

5. Intern at Alvin Ailey

6. Sky Dive

7. Leave the country

8. Learn to play the acoustic guitar

9. Meet Debbie Allen

10. To Be Announced…

With graduation sneaking closer, I find myself obsessing over what is next. I know what I want, but the way to get there is a little murky. I figured if I made a list, it’d be easier to remember what I want and to figure out how to get them.