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.

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

Forgiveness

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.

happy V.D. (now get some cream for that ...)

When Ck and I were together we only got to spend Valentine’s Day in the same city once. It was one of the hardships of being in a long distance relationship. But there is a serious upside to not having to place that much value in a holiday through which I really don’t see a point. I liked to think of myself as a boyfriend who would send flowers for a small thing like it being the third Thursday in October. Or an email in the middle of the week because a voicemail was just a little too regular (isn’t that a great surprise to open your inbox ad find something that doesn’t fit with the penis enlargement and pyramid schemes?).

Once again I am going to find myself in the same city as Ck this Valentine’s Day, but for my own purposes. The extended break that she and I have been on has been good for me. I have shed so much of my bitter feelings of rejection and resentment. I am going to be there for a weeklong audition workshop … and I honestly can’t wait to get started on it. I have been dancing so well and feeling so good about myself that I am radiating confidence. I feel as much as this being I auditioning for Seattle, Seattle is auditioning for me. Is this a city that I can live in with the chance of seeing Ck being relegated to a chance passing on a bus? Time will tell, but it will be good for me to make that judgment. We have decided to meet up at some point this trip, but for me, that must be after I have passed my judgment on the city, and assessed myself.

I am excited/nervous for things to start. A bit like the first time I swam the 1500, you have to line up your counter, you don’t want your goggles to be too loose/too tight, you want your suit to fit well. There are many things that could go wrong this week and I have never had an audition that lasted this long.

Again friends have commented that I have grown up, in a sense I feel that way as well, but it’s a test of what grown up me really is. I have been somewhat cacooned as I have been working on myself and this is a chance to see how well wind-tested I am, it’s (as I have learned) a process.

This is it for now, the plan being to keep friends and family updated, and to do more writing in general. I have kept myself hidden for far too long and my people have gone without defecation jokes for long enough.

A Sketch

This will be one of the last sketches that I can post here, I made it taking little dabbles with a different types of charcoal. It's a way to say goodbye; I have said it before and thouroughly believe it that I want you to be happy, I can't be a part of that happiness and in a sense it's a relief not to have that responsibility on my shoulders anymore. And for all you facebook readers click on "see original link" so you can see the scan. I was going to put this up earlier this week, but I can't post the original text that went with the sketch unfortunately. Maybe someday when it's all processed. Je manque vous.

Deleted

Deleted. On Tuesday I was handling a plate in the kitchen and it slipped from my hands, it broke and I slammed my wrist into the counter trying to save it. A piece of the porcelain was lodged in my wrist but I had thought that I had most of it washed out. Delirious from the pain, I took Tylenol and Advil, made it downstairs and passed out. I put an away message up “Je suis en deleur; je manqué t’elle” from the French, I am in pain, I miss her. I found that when I was sick for such a long time this semester, when I have been battling my depression, I don’t miss anyone in particular, and when it was someone that I deeply missed it was always Ck, but I missed having someone there that supported me, someone that I could cry in front of, someone that I could be broken in front of. I can say that I can walk away from this experience being able to cry in front of a mirror and see a smile in my eyes, my brokenness is what makes me whole, my flaws are what make me unique, and I can lean on myself because indeed I am a strong person.

So yesterday after having slept with a piece of porcelain still in my arm I went in to get my wrist x-rayed, luckily it was all soft tissue damage and aside from the piece of the plate that my dad dug out there was no serious damage luckily. I would hate to have to audition with a cast on my wrist. Actually, come to think of it, I have broken my nose several times, but never had to have a cast, the thought of having something in a cast just bothers me. I see myself as someone who goes AMA after being told they need a cast.

So I just have a gnarly gash on my wrist that looks like a botched suicide attempt, as long as I keep it wrapped and the Vitamin E on it, I shouldn’t even get a scar. It’s not even that impressive of a story, maybe if it involved a bar fight where I was defending a maiden’s honor with my broken bottle, and I had to take a slash to get the inside jab …. Nah. Unfortunately it’s just from trying to catch a broken plate. But it hurt like a mother, and hurt even worse when I woke up in the morning and my body was rather pissed that there was still a piece of it inside me, let me tell you, the body is amazingly in tune, if there is a foreign body in there it’s going to put you through all sorts of pain and torture to get it out of there.

Chapters have closed in my life, some I have closed, some have closed on me, right now, and it’s one step in front of the other. I have been listening to a lot of Colin Hay lately, and taking my iPod to the bar when I am on service duty. This song is on repeat and will be for the next couple of weeks I am sure.

Colin Hay Band, “Waiting For My Real Life to Begin”

Any minute now, my ship is coming in
I'll keep checking the horizon
I'll stand on the bow, feel the waves come crashing
Come crashing down, down, down, on me

And you say, be still my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in
But don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin

When I awoke today, suddenly nothing happened
But in my dreams, I slew the dragon
And down this beaten path, and up this cobbled lane
I'm walking in my old footsteps, once again
And you say, just be here now
Forget about the past, your mask is wearing thin
Let me throw one more dice
I know that I can win
I'm waiting for my real life to begin

Any minute now, my ship is coming in
I’ll keep checking the horizon
And I'll check my machine, there's sure to be that call
It's gonna happen soon, soon, soon
It's just that times are lean

And you say, be still my love
Open up your heart, let the light shine in
Don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin

Also I have a fantastic cocktail that is free to a good home. This has become the most popular drink that I have created for 303, I love it, the regulars love it, and I am told that it is never coming off of the Aperitif List. It feels good to make your mark. It has a name, so ask in the comments but I think if you taste it, it inspires you to name it after the person that inspired you to make it. Any restaurant that I ever work in I will fight tooth and nail to get this on the menu with its proper name, it’s that good.

1.5 oz Raspberry Vox Vodka
0.5 oz Disarronno Amaretto
0.75 oz Chambord
Half of a squeezed lime
1 oz fresh passion fruit puree

Lay the passion fruit puree in the base of a chilled cocktail glass
Shake the first four ingredients in a Boston shaker with plenty of ice and strain, layering on top of the passion fruit puree, pouring over the back of a spoon as to keep the pousse-café structure of the drink. Garnish with a raspberry wrapped with an orange twist.

I am Un-Loved

I am unloved. It is not to be confused with the sentiment “I am not loved.” No, to be “unloved” is something completely unique. Look at it literally, in the Orwellian sense, the opposite of love, is not really hate, love is it’s own emotion, and hate is it’s own emotion, and the opposite of those can only be the absence of one. I.e. the opposite of Love, is un-love, and the opposite of hate, is un-hate. Which leads me to, what is this Un-lovedness, and why would I be feeling such. Again, I know that there are people out there that love me, that care about me, and that want to see me happy, and a full person. I know and trust that to be true. But that is not how I feel.

Here comes the honesty part, I am in the process of being treated for a moderately-severe Major Depression. It is a Major Depression, not because it is huge and deep, but because it has been going on for the past year, and because it wasn’t situational. Treatment is going well, but it’s hard work. I am forced to see this as a physical illness. Part of my body chemistry is unbalanced, meaning that chemically it is not possible for me to feel as happy as other people. So drug therapy can help combat that, but it is psychologically formed. Antidepressant medication is like wearing water-wings when learning how to swim. They keep the individual afloat while they learn front-crawl and balance in the water. As they learn the strokes, the water-wings become unnecessary, and they can swim on their own. I am learning how to swim.

But I keep coming back to the idea that therapy is hard work, it is the non-physical treatment of a physical illness. Anyone who thinks that it is just sitting on a couch talking to a shrink about your childhood of wearing high heels and sneaking around your mother’s closet has obviously never done any and should keep their opinions to themselves. I don’t tell you what it is like to experience something that I have never done.

What un-love feels like? It is indeed a feeling, not a lack of a feeling. First I think I have to talk about what love feels like though to get to it’s opposite. Love is feeling like a human, that mistakes are forgivable, that I am a good person, that I have a right to care about someone, that it’s OK to feel sad and happy, that it’s a good thing to feel like I should solve my problems, that I should feel missed, that I miss others, and that I want to reach out and touch the warm spot next to me in the morning where someone was sleeping. That to me, is love, all of those sensations mixed in a cocktail and poured down the gullet. This brings me to un-love. Un-love means that I do not feel like I am human, that it is raw emotion with no cushioning, that my mistakes are unforgivable, because I do not deserve to be forgiven, that ultimately my pain and suffering merits the non-response of people around me, it is the feeling of only guilt when I am happy, that I have no right to be happy because of what I am, that I shouldn’t care about people because they are not affected by my care for them and for them it doesn’t matter that I care about them (again not necessarily a true sentiment, but how I feel), and when I wake up in the morning I stare at the ceiling and go through the day trying just to list the little joys that I hope to encounter.

For the past week, I roll out of bed around 8:30, give or take 3 and a half minutes without an alarm. And I play two songs on my iPod, the first being, The Fray’s “How to save a Life” Followed by the unplugged version of Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven.” During these two songs I stretch and wake up my soul. Go about my morning business, sneak in a workout, do some reading and have my day. It’s working for me so far, but for now, I must know this feeling of Un-love as to appreciate again the feeling of Love in it’s fullness.

Cheers.