Tuesday, February 20, 2007

You see?!?!?!? I have the will of the warrior. Therefore the battle is already over. The winner? ME!!! HAHA!! Rematch!?! YOU LOSE AGAIN! Had enough? I thought so ....

Done and Done

Resolutions. Beginning to be friends again. My heart beats slower. The audition is over. Now I just wait. It’s a first date situation. The song … and dance … is over for my time in Seattle. Today everyone finished strong. I think we were all a bit frazzled from our experience yesterday.

I am frazzled from my conversation last night. I worry about pulling for closure of some sort. I am glad to say that we are going to begin to restart a friendship. It’s a first step. That’s all I am going to publish here.

I head back to Denver tomorrow for some R & R, ballet class, some bikram, maybe some nice wine. Gonna hit up the Cork House and snag some of their under-priced bottles.

Things I love about Seattle:
Purple wine bar
Murray at Zig-Zag
My new friends at PNB (and being treated like a company member)
Espresso, and more espresso, well made cappuccinos
Capitol Hill
And the rain, everything is green and lush.
Ridiculous seafood. Seeing a whole Halibut and tuna-side come in at Pike Place.

Right now I think I would be happy here if I am not offered a contract. I have performed well during the audition and in my assessment I would do well here. More later. I need some more coffee after finishing.

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Monday, February 19, 2007

Moday Blues and Blacks

Two days of Modern. Day one I was at an advantage, I was one of a handful that had demonstrable Graham and release technique. I wasn’t allowed to get past with petty mistakes, a non-squared spiral, tilted pelvis, I am a firm believer that being held to a higher standard bodes well for me. Today was an easier day. We had modern class this morning, but this afternoon reminded me of Jury Exams. We were taught very divers 32 count segments of choreography and asked to perform them, after only seeing them once. It was stressful. Even right now, as I am finished I feel like I just want to cry. My nerves are shot. I don’t think I could imagine a more taxing experience to go through. We started with 16 counts, and worked our way up to 96 counts, given only one chance to see the choreography with about half of them being from tape. And then we had to do it for the panel.

I saw Ck last night, it was sufficiently weird, and she said some things that have stuck with me through today. I worry about context and wanting clarification so I have done my best to put them in the back of my head and not let them make it up to the front of my psyche. We have plans to meet up this afternoon and I will search for clarification and closure. I still can’t get the thoughts of this afternoon’s process outside of me. It was traumatic; I have learned a new skill for how to torture/audition people if I ever find myself in that position.

I am still rocking on the Seattle vibe. I am genuinely serious about moving here. It’s a place I could dig, and I don’t think I would have a lot of trouble getting a well paying survival job making enough to support myself if I don’t get the apprenticeship. The times that I have gone out I have had good conversations with bartenders and chefs and have received favorable interest. More to follow later

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Sunday, February 18, 2007


I was rightly accused about not talking about my relationship with Ck when it was getting better, and only blogging about it “here” when it was on the sour or in decline. I am sad to say that this was the case. I don’t think she reads this anymore since we are on the long break.

She and I never really took a break from being eachother’s orbit, and we have done as much since New Year’s. After much exasperation I can say that I am a better person for the break. I had been holding animosity and negative feelings, feelings of rejection and resentment that weren’t healthy for my general well-being. The break has brought me to peace with these feelings. They are processed and shed. What I have found myself to be left with are the nice feelings, the fuzzy feelings, and the good times.

As well, I am stronger person. By keeping those negative experiences present it was bringing down my personhood and wasn’t good for my emotional health. I find myself in Seattle now, and I am hanging out with some of the other dancers and I don’t feel guilty being flirtatious, or being me for that matter.

I talked to my baby sister about this the other day and have found that I am not sure if I would date Ck again. But now more than anytime I would be in a place where it would be possible at the very minimum. This is what forgiveness feels like.


Saturday, February 17, 2007

If frogs had wings they wouldn't bump their asses when they hopped

I kind of like food, just a little bit. For me it was always about getting nutrition and making sure that I could get through the day. Ok … maybe not. But I was very sad to just learn that one of my favorite fooderies closed. New Yorkers will throw down over pizza. This neo-politan foodstuff inspires arguments equivalent to that of Broncos vs. Raiders fans. For me it always boiled down to what was the “best worst pizza.” Because trying to declare the best pizza for me was like trying to say what the best Scotch or wine is, it’s going to depend on what I am in the mood for. Do I want a crisp crust that you can only get from a wood-burning oven, or do I want a chewy yeasty creation from a thicker crust, and a liberal dosing of the red sauce to bump up the texture. Maybe a little Greek fare with spicing heavy on the Oregano and meat sliced fresh off the Gyro-Log.

Hands down, the best worst pizza in my neighborhood was John’s. It was salty, the Mozzarella was moist and melted beautifully, not like the plasticine stuff Domino’s uses, and the sauce was probably thinned down commercial tomato paste. But their hot ovens would get a wonderfully crisp crust that would crunch and explode with a great yeastiness. It was, the best worst pizza personified. On the way down for some dollar beers a slice of john’s was necessary, or coming back from class where I simply needed calories in my stomach, it was somewhat of a ritual necessity.

Their gyros as well I fancied for their saltiness with a spice subdued by their yogurt sauce. Their tomatoes tended to be a bit dry but they made up for it with an abundance of shredded lettuce and crisp chunks of white onion. This was my lady-repellent.

Alas, as I have mentioned, John’s Pizza and Gyro is no more. Kaput. Off the map. Let’s have a moment of silence for it’s passing.


Friday, February 16, 2007

Greatest lyrics ever

I love bad pop music. People who have sneaked a peak at my iPod ... or stole it ... know that my music is eclectic and varied. But I have to say right now that today was a Gin Blossoms day. It was Gin Blossoms on the way in this morning, and is now as I sit having a Latte. Needless to say, these are some of the greatest lyrics of all time from their song Lost Horizons: She had nothing left to say so she said she loved me / I stood there greatful for the lie....

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.


Day 2

Day two was not as glorious as day 1, I found that the soreness that follows a day of dancing within my means bites worse than that after the first day of African or Robert Battle. My insides are sore, my fingers are sore, and the backs of my knees hurt. My hips, hammies, shoulders are all fine, but it’s the minutiae of me that took a beating yesterday. I still danced well. Using my soreness as a guide to where my body was in space. I remember from school the days when I was best on my leg were the days after a hard abdominal workout or with sore hamstrings. Soreness was my way of channeling awareness. If tensions in my muscles manifest soreness then a self-realization was first evident. Ballet this morning was tough, the instructor put us through the ropes of a Fosse-like class, I lost count of the times we had to do the tendú combination as I sensed them trying to reach our breaking point as a group. Like pieces of aluminum being stress tested, we were watched for consistency, what comparisons could you draw from my 12th plié to me 86th? Hopefully there was none, that the first was as juicy and released as the last, but knowing my body, I am in good physical shape, but my dance shape has been lacking. I feel that ballet might have worked against me today, not taking consistent class since graduation left those small muscles tuned for consistency a bit lazy.

After a quick lunch with some of the dancers where we ducked into a cute little bistro for a simple baguette and salami to fuel the afternoon, a requisite espresso was also in order. Following lunch we had a partnering class. Luckily we were supplemented with 4 of the corps dancers from the company, because the 3 of us demonstrating partnering on 25 girls would have left the girls at a severe disadvantage. Aware of the trust that must be formed between a partner and his lady placed a lot of responsibility on my part. If my partnering skills were not up to par, my girl could be blamed. Justifiably there are some situations where poor partnering chemistry is not the boy’s fault. A girl has to be strong, and self aware of where her leg is. In a finger-turn my job is to maintain her motion, and not pull her off of her leg, in the event that she overcorrects or finds herself off her leg. But not being there in the first place and assuming that it is my job to put her on her leg is only my responsibility if I am in control of the preparation. I found that I did well in the partnering class. I was consistent and lucky to not to have to work with the smallest of the girls. I think that there is a common assumption that smaller dancers make for easier partnering, but often it is not the case, I tend to prefer a dancer that is strong enough to give me honest resistance and to provide counter-balance and counter-pressure to my movements. This is something that I have to work on, but I have yet to develop finesse to my partnering, perhaps I rely too much on my partner’s ability to correct my own judgment. Heh, my newfound self-awareness should help in my understanding of what is to come.

Following our partnering excursion we head into learning variations. I feel that this is one of the areas where my formal education was lacking. Classical ballets have set scores and set choreographies. Like an actor’s monologues, or a jazz musician’s standards, dancers have variations that are common and should be known in personal rep. For those of us unlucky to not know “bluebird” we were given a 10-minute review of the choreography and the coaching began. I was in this group. Luckily at the bare minimum I was familiar with the music so my expression and interpretation of the score had a depth. The choreography came quickly, Forsythe and Meyers made sure that my ability to pick up and reverse choreography was at a tuned level. Like riding a bike, I definitely came to rely on my old tricks for re-memory and perception. Still, of the men, I was the one not familiar with the choreography and found myself first at advantage. The name of the drill this was to see how well we took coaching, picked up nuance ad adapted to what was thrown at us. If the exercise was to find out who grew the most through the coaching, then I did well, if they were looking for who presented the best final product I am not so confident in my showing. I guess my end perceptions of the day leave me somewhere in the middle. Not sure of what exactly they were looking for (assuredly a combination of the two) I say that my day’s performance places me in the middle of the pack.

I am excited for tomorrow. In lieu of ballet, we are starting with a modern class, which should play into some of my strengths followed in the afternoon with modern partnering. Luckily these are two things that I am versed in. I just hope to channel some of Kevin Wynn’s bombastic energy and size 14 feet.

I think at this point I am thoroughly infatuated with Seattle proper; it rained this afternoon and was gorgeous as the studio we were in for variations overlooked the bay. At this point in my juncture, without this apprenticeship I could still find myself in the city, happy and alone. Coming to this conclusion and my evaluation of life here at a cursory level and my own assessment of my personal qualities/strengths/weaknesses has left me with this realization. Through Christmas my perceptions of the city were left colored a shade rose, the benefits seemed a little more grand, and the detriments a bit trite. Events forced me to re-evaluate my perceptions. Benefits lost some luster, and the detriments gained a bit of a bite. I hope to have dinner again in the Capital Hill district after my dinner Downtown left my wallet a bit lighter. My first night here I ventured to Capital Hill and enjoyed the eclectic nature of the district, it’s a bit Brooklyn meets West Village. Not everyone is a scenester, but the mix of people who may maintain an apartment on the UES living next door with a TVestite punk-rocker reminds me of a place where I could live, be myself, and people watch without becoming bored. I want to have dinner there again.