A Skilled Opponent

Well. This sucks. And I knew it would happen. Lord help the first person to look at me with the "We told you so," eyes. I told me so too. Obviously, that went real far.


Here I am. Skipped class under the impression that I'd be going to brunch. I actually got excited to go. And now I'm drinking the same coffee and eating the same oatmeal as always. Stupid. And I need a rest - my left foot is bruised terribly, the bones in my right foot are definitely not in the right place and the last straw to my week from Hell was just handed to me. Despite all of that, I can't stand that I'm sitting here, writing this instead of discussing our book and improving with my friends. Dumb move.


It's funny when you have a strong connection with someone, how you can just feel the shift in things, before they're even in the same area code as you. That has happened to me a lot in the past six months. I always know how it is before I've even seen the person. And the frustrating thing is, it doesn't seem to matter what I think or feel about a situation. Every time, their opinion is the one that is acted on and mine falls to the wayside. Even if all I want is an explanation and in the past I was dragged into something much riskier and demanding and given no choice.


I gave things up for it. And this is what you do. I look like a fool on so many levels, it's not even funny.


So, I'm sorry, new friend with the incredible smile, but I've given up - maybe that strengthens his win, but I don't care. I'm not doing this again. Maybe it's not where you're heading but I think it might be. Maybe in a different life, where I'd been taught different rules to the game, but the ones I know are successfully deterring me from playing. 


I am sorry for jumping when you touched my leg, though. I don't know why that startled me, aside from my head being in a very, very different place when you walked up to hug me and being shocked by the laughter and smile I, myself gave you. 


That's when I knew my night wasn't going to go as planned. There's a reason I keep running into you.


But none of it matters because again, here I sit. Not sad but angry. I didn't even deserve a normal conversation. That was the biggest slap in the face. Don't think I couldn't tell. You talked to everyone just like you, but with me, you were something else and that's not fair. 


So karaoke tonight? I think not. I have a gym to tear apart, an outline to organize and maybe a studio to fall asleep in. I'm not wasting any more time.


So you're like me? You don't have a weekend. Well, good. Keep working hard. It will all pay off.


See, and there's the confusing thing Mr. "40 minutes." First of all, you compared us and came to the conclusion that we're alike, even though you're clearly perfect and I'm clearly anything but, and secondly, am I supposed to live as a human being or not?



As soon as I figure out the internet, I have a bunch of videos to upload. I told you all this wasn't over.

Nothing ever ends

I've learned that...if nothing else.


A lot's happened in the past few days - 


I was told I disappeared on stage next to such a great performer, probably because I can't drop my weight.


I failed to be a crocodile, but I don't want to be a crocodile, I'd rather be an elephant but I can't make an elephant sound louder than the rest of you can make the obvious sounds.


I stressed about what animal I should actually be and the consensus is a kangaroo, which I can actually make that noise so that's good. 


I freaked my mom out because she made the mistake of telling me that I'm bigger now than I was when everyone thought I'd stopped eating.


Alice pointed out a lot of things to me. But mainly, I just wish I had a rabbit hole to fall down.


I had to take class from the man who nearly ruined me and you know what, he very well still could. 


I can't dance. I feel trapped. Caged with fear.


I don't know how to dance about love because I don't know if I've ever been given the chance to experience it in a fair way, and I've got less than a month to figure out how to feel beautiful on that stage for him.


I lost my closest friend in my final process. How can that happen? Why?


And the cherry on top, this is when you're coming back. I'm not even sure if I'm included in seeing you at this point.


But if everything you wrote was what I think it was, you should know what I've learned. 

I'm not Cassie

Just got home from the second showing of "mEmotion." It was stressful, putting this show together, having people drop out, trying to do five million other things and realizing that I had absolutely no control over what was about to happen to me. I was tense all day about it, and people just kept telling me to relax, because in the end, it was going to be whatever it was going to be.


And it was. I did the duet with Jess, and by the time we had an audience, it was only our second time attempting the piece. And I thought it felt awesome. Although, she went back to four years ago, when we first met. I wrote her an email, all but begging to dance, because I wanted to and I needed to. She brought it up, and I casually responded with not being that dancer anymore, but then relinquished by adding that I still kind of am. I would still write that email. I would audition a hundred times, whatever it took for the chance to dance. 


I came off-stage from that uneasy, slightly embarrassed. The audience was small, but important. Again, everyone I look up to was there. Everyone I want to please. And those who taught me everything I ever knew were there and were watching me move as me for the first time in five years. Nerve-racking. And there Jess went and told a secret. I don't even think it is a secret, but it felt like one. I don't think a lot of them know about how I started at Temple.


So it was time to go on for my duet with Megan, and I just kept thinking about not forcing the speaking. Before I could continue to consider it, I heard my own voice in the space, talking about who I was, and would that be enough? There was this little voice yelling, "What are you saying? Shut up! It doesn't have to be this way." But I just continued with it. And then stopped. I didn't have anything to say. I just wanted to know if who I am is enough for all those people, or if there's the chance that it will ever be.


And then Megan entered, pointed out that I wasn't talking much. I know. I don't know what to say. I feel weird. Nervous. Unsure. Scared. I really don't want to wear this shirt anymore. Thank you for taking it away from me. Which is weird. I'm not sure how I got to the place where I didn't want that shirt. This morning it served as both a comfort and a challenge to pack that into my bag, but by that point in the dance, it felt intrusive. Like a third, unwelcome presence in the space. As soon as it was off, I felt free, easy. I remember jumping. I really don't jump that much unless prompted to by a choreographer. It isn't my step of choice.


I just felt like observing tonight. I wanted to watch my partners and to help them. I wanted to be quiet and let them be, but I felt as if both of them were nudging me into being everything I could. Into owning up to what I had done and what I was doing. It was really interesting.


My "old" dance teachers loved it, but they kept talking about how beautiful and mature Jess was. When do I get to be mature? What do I have to do to get there? I'm positive it isn't an age thing. Merían said we have to talk. I'm positive I'm in trouble. I didn't let go enough. It was too "good." Damn. Joellen and Richard loved it. Jae Hoon told me I was on the right path and to keep going. Kun-Yang told me, "As long as you had fun." Ouch. Ken loved hearing me talk about my process, which meant so much. And overall, I heard that I'd grown. That this was different for me. 


And I did it. I got mixed responses. That's ultimately what I wanted. I made people think.


Then dinner with Miss Pat and Miss Jamyn. It was so great. They had so many amazing questions about what I'd done with the piece, how I'd done it, why I'd done it...I was so happy that they were so engaged and not just saying, "So what were you doing exactly?" I was scared to death of them seeing this one just because I don't trust myself with it yet. I don't know if I ever will. But then we talked about everything, from diets, to boys, to Nutcrackers and Indonesia. It was beautiful. I wish I hadn't been sniffling the whole time.


And the words I've always wondered if I would hear in the end...


I am very proud of you.


My heart melted. Thank you. 


There are people who want to dance, there are people who love to dance and there are a very few people who've gotta dance. You have the gotta dance.


I have nothing to say to that. But there's this feeling, I want to cry, and I just want to run in circles. She sees it. And I'm not her kind of dancer anymore. I'm something else. And she still sees it.

Finished making sense

I finally, finally got to sit down with Joellen and talk through the piece, and it was so helpful. She used words like undulant, calm, relaxing, transformative and therapeutic to describe what Megan and I have been doing. She also said she'd never seen us move like that, which is awesome coming from the woman who's worked with me on various things for four semesters now. She also pointed out that she could see the change we underwent from the beginning of the dance to the end, and the changes I've undergone from the beginning of the process to now. And, once again, she made the point that this process has been extremely important, maybe more so than the piece itself. It was so nice to hear feedback and for it to be positive. A little more challenge, a little more criticism, a little more push - that all could have been good too, but I just needed someone to tell me that I did something okay.


I'm sick again. I don't have time for this. And it came out of nowhere. Stupid.


I would also love nothing more than to run away. I don't care where. Or how. I'm just done here. I'm over it. I need a change of scenery. 


Are you okay, honey? You're just not yourself lately.


Alright, so I'm not crazy. That is true. Thank you someone for seeing it. Here it is guys - no, Kayla, I'm not okay, and I think you know that. I can't do it. I can't keep relying on people who don't follow through. I am trying to juggle four different lives at the moment, and if everyone else could just maintain the one or two lives they're in, it would all work. But at the place I'm in right now, I can't pick up slack, especially if it's not my own. And I am asking, begging for help, and I feel a little shut down. This is why I just do things by myself. This is why I'm alone. I like it better that way. 


And my whole world collapsed yesterday right before I had to go into work. So that was great. And I got myself up on the floor only to have things get worse. So I just shut up, put myself in the shop, and started tying ribbons and putting tissue paper in gift boxes. I don't even know if any of it was necessary, but at least I didn't have to try to socialize. And then your hands on my back. I don't know how you always know, but you're always there when I need you. And I came back. It's nice to have some semblance of family still left in that place.


I'm sorry, for everything. My decision wasn't right. I shouldn't have let any of it happen. I don't think you care, but I do.


And man, if I could keep my end of the deal, you would be getting a face to face earful at the moment. It isn't fair that now is when you chose to be everything I was afraid you were, and to prove everyone else right, because now is exactly when there is nothing I can do about it. So, peace. I'm over it. See you.


For the person I end up screaming at: I am sorry. You probably don't deserve what's coming. You're receiving a myriad of inner frustrations and struggles that I just can't contain anymore. Whatever happened, you probably only were a very small fraction of my issue and just unfortunately ended up being the last I could take. 


I know it's coming, so I figured I'd get that out of the way now. 


I have videos but couldn't upload anything to Youtube yesterday. Just that kind of day. I'll work on it.

40 minutes

It's like this.

He pointed at his watch, and I must admit, I was thoroughly confused.

These 20 minutes, they're the time you are dancing. The other 40 minutes, that's the rest of your life. The more you allow yourself to have 40 minutes, the more enriched those 20 minutes can and will become.

Wow. You might just have a point.

Dance isn't everything, you know?

And I never thought I would ever let someone say that to me. But you did. And just hearing those words suddenly lifted a huge weight off my chest. Shocked by the lack of rage in myself at hearing something so "unjust," I could do nothing to stop it. I know you didn't understand why I was smiling ear to ear, and why it was probably the biggest smile you've ever seen from me, but apparently I needed someone to tell me that. I feel better. Thank you.

I don't see any physical limitation. I see you limiting yourself. It's all in your head.

Truth. Again, thank you. That's so wonderful and so terrible to hear all at once. And ya, you're right, I could see it. In the video, the moments when I stopped thinking about what my body is or isn't capable of, those were the moments I was really moving. When I was struggling to be perfect and fit inside the box of what I believe I need to be, I wasn't successful at being that or anything else.

You're absolutely right. I need to let go. I need to start trusting myself. I need to keep working hard, but I need to stop being the harshest critic I have ever met. I need to believe I can do this, because the rest of you think I can.

You looked me right in the eyes when you said it all. You meant it. I could see that, and that is huge.

Okay. I'm going to give it a whirl. Time to grow up. Time to shut up everything I've been told about who and what I am. They don't know me anymore. They were wrong. I know me. And I can do this. 

And maybe, just maybe, I'll start making time for myself, that doesn't involve dance. But that's going to take some work. One thing at a time...

Counting on the night for a beautiful day

I can't shake the dream I had last night, and how much it was related to everything that's been happening. I was in my room, and it looked exactly like my room, not a "dream" version at all. And my friend, I could see him through my window, telling me to check out the knocking at my door. Me telling him I was sorry, that I was certain it was at our front door. And then realizing that the knocking was more scratching than anything else. Somehow knowing it was her outside my door, and asking if she was okay, because it would be completely understandable if she wasn't. Opening the door, her screaming and grabbing my throat. A one-handed clutch that took me back, made me fall on my bed, seeing only her eyes as she continued screaming. Trying to scream myself, but not being able to from the incredible pressure her surprising strength was placing on my vocal cords. Why wasn't Eiren helping me? Where had he gone? I could actually feel it - her hand around my neck. I felt the moment I stopped breathing, the moment I gave in, and the lack of struggle from the shock of fear. I died with my eyes open. And suddenly I realized I wasn't dreaming. A huge gasp rang through the morning air as I tried to move myself, weak from lack of oxygen. How long had I been like that? Arm limp over the bed, I'd actually stopped breathing. Had my heart stopped too? It took me a few seconds to orient myself, to take in what had happened. How had that happened? What if...


My dreams have always been really important to me and meant a lot. I looked this one up, and it's nothing good but it's completely pertinent. I'm scared to sleep again. I know the wives' tale about dying in dreams, but I've already proven that false before. Why didn't I this time?


Never mind, I'll find someone like you.


I can hear the neighbors' bathroom radio from downstairs. Most of the time, I want to scream at them for it but I love that song, and it's suddenly becoming more of an anthem than just something to sing along to. 


Everyone took it upon themselves to remind me on Thursday that I have only 8 weeks left in my college career. Thanks so much all. Are you looking to complete the panic attack I've already started?


In the first 6 weeks of this semester, I have already been lost, redefined meal times, confronted myself, conquered some fears, created many new ones and developed narcolepsy. I have absolutely no idea what could be waiting for me in this final stretch.


And then the inevitable, "What's next?" If I hadn't all of a sudden thought his smile was remarkably charming, I probably would have blown his question off. I can't stand being asked that. But I behaved. I told him I just wanted to dance, performing as much as possible while I still could. He didn't tell me it was impossible, he just wanted me to be more specific. Who for? Where? Well, I want to dance. I'll take whoever wants me.


That's not good enough. You need to have a goal and go after it. You get to choose just as much as they do.


The goal remark made me mad. I almost lost composure and ended up biting my tongue. I do have a goal. I'm clear on what that is, whether or not the rest of you understand.


But there someone went with the, "You get to choose," comment again. I seriously never ever thought of that. Never was that in my realm of possibilities. I have always been of the "I'll take what I can get," mindset, in the hopes that eventually it would get me somewhere good. Not to say I'd be giving in or settling, I just know how difficult this field is and that I will have to work from the bottom up. Especially someone like me - the non-dancing body that dances.


And my one clear goal is a tricky topic around the University. I feel silly saying it, or out of line. I don't know why, but I can't articulate it to those people. So everyone thinks I'm just this silly girl auditioning my butt off with no idea what I want. But that's not true. I know exactly what I want. I'm just not sure how to get there. 


Class this morning, my shoulders feel better. My upper body is starting to let go...I think. In a week I'll probably find out that I'm completely wrong, but it feels different, hopefully different good. But I continue to leave most classes, especially his, with this overwhelming "I just wish I was a good dancer," ringing in my ears. And when I can shut that off, be me and dance, I feel great and I get somewhere. It's just hard to make it stop some days.


I start rehearsal with Jess tomorrow for her portion. It should be interesting. I don't know what that dance is yet. I have a notion. I know she's worried about me. I know a lot of people are. I'm a little tired of being looked at like a bomb that's about to explode any second, or like a puzzle that's missing a few pieces and they just can't figure out where to put them. I wonder if that will transfer into what we do. I wonder if she'll continue to take on the Mom role and make me talk, make it about me, or if she'll let it be about her, which is what I'd actually like. 


Not sure if that's just me avoiding the task at hand or if it's something valid and genuine I'm looking to tap into.

What is done in your name

I did this improv yesterday after reading an atrocious first-hand account of a man who survived severe torture during the French Algerian War. That, combined with a little Facebook stalking which led me to find a slap in the face, left my body uneasy and restless. The perfect state to dance in and take out all my visceral emotions on. And so, here you have it. Both Henri Alleg's and my own torture, through my moving words.

I'm looking both at the text and the photo on the computer screen, just to clarify, because they were there and it seemed right to focus on them.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-H8T-dwI_-s