Tag: Ballet

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First Nutcracker Since Childhood :)

Was feeling a bit stressed yesterday — so so SO many work deadlines (why does Christmas have to be at the end of the year!), writing deadlines, and just the stress of cocktail parties (of which I had my first Saturday night, hosted by a friend from college, who’s a corporate lawyer and hence knows A LOT of corporate lawyers — at one point, we went around the circle and by way of introduction announced what we ‘covered’ — which, in in-house corporate lawyerese, I soon realized meant hedgefunds, foreign investments, mergers, etc. etc. When we got to me, I shrugged and said in a low voice, “Uh, I cover poor people.” Everyone laughed, but I did get several looks of pity. And one woman, in-house counsel for Donna Karan, began a discussion about her awesome finds at the latest Jimmy Choo sale, then suddenly stopped herself, glanced at me, and asked if anyone had read any good books recently… Which I thought kinda funny… just because I’m a public defender doesn’t mean I don’t have any interest in fashion (!), although I have to say, I do prefer book discussions :)).

Anyway, after beginning three projects at once yesterday and realizing none was going to get finished as I was going to have a nervous breakdown, I decided to take a walk. My walk ended up at Lincoln Center, where I decided to buy my Fourth Ring Society membership for the upcoming NYCBallet season, and figured while I was at it, I’d buy a ticket to the evening’s Nutcracker performance as well. I’m so glad I took the evening off. It was so much fun. As much of a ballet fan as I am, I actually haven’t seen the Nutcracker since I was a child. I remember my mom used to take me and my childhood friends, Debbie and Tammy (I have no siblings), to Phoenix Symphony Hall at least once every holiday season to see the ballet. I always loved the “It’s a Small World After All” aspect of it, with the Spanish and Arabian and Russian dancers, and of course, like all little kids, I loved the “fat lady” who harbored all the children within her skirt. And afterward we would always go for dessert at either The Sugar Bowl or Farrell’s. I remember I was always so conflicted over which one I preferred, as The Sugar Bowl was more off the beaten path, quieter, and had very cute tables and chairs in amusing heart and other such shapes, and smaller, but more spirited-looking dishes. Farrell’s was far more crowded and noisy, but they had absolutely ginormous sundaes. My friends always wanted Farrell’s, but I always wanted to at least take a peek in S.B. I guess even at 10, I was inclined to be the weird one!

Anyway, Megan Fairchild and Joaquin DeLuz were my sugarplum fairy and her cavalier yesterday. They were adorable together. Megan has such a sweet face, and, since seeing Joaquin in Jorma Elo’s ‘Slice to Sharp’ last season, he is now one of my favorite men in NYCB. Sterling Hyltin was a gorgeous Dewdrop. From the back of the Fourth Ring, she reminded me of ABT’s Michele Wiles, but if I was closer I might not have thought so. Perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Here’s a pic of the lovely ‘performing arts’ Christmas tree (notice the violin and pointe shoes ornaments) at the Lincoln Center Plaza:

While on the Nutcracker theme, here is a very charming couple of blog entries by Ariel, a David Hallberg and Winger fan, upon meeting him backstage when he guest-performed this past weekend with her sister’s company, the Mobile Ballet.

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Evil Biscuits 'N Gravy!

biscuits and gravy

I ate way too much of this over the past week! I know it doesn’t really look it, but it is just so yummy! Definitely my very favorite southern dish. I gained six pounds, in just one week … Jacob took one look at me last night and said, “okay, let’s talk about music!” He’s going to be gone next week at a competition in Las Vegas, so I have two weeks to lose it before lifts begin again! Seriously, methinks I am finding a rather not so good connection between ballet and standard ballroom involving body image. Now that I have decided to do a Tharp Sinatra Suites-esque routine with Jacob, i.e. foxtrotish waltz, rather than Latin, I just keep envisioning myself romantically floating across the floor, lightweight and feathery. Latin is more about connecting to the floor, being, not heavy, but just solidly grounded. Plus, Latin dancer bodies are usually voluptuous and curvy and buff. Standard bodies are more light and weightless-looking, like ballet. Meaning, ugh, weight consciousness time…

Anyway, Jacob cracks me up. I’d bought several Sinatra and Harry Connick Jr. CDs in North Carolina so that I could listen to them on my 11-hour train ride home, and hopefully, find a good song for our next routine. I found four possibilities on the classic Sinatra CD, which I stupidly forgot to take out of the disc player and put back into its holder, which of course I remembered to bring with me to the studio but left the disc player at home. I was so mad at myself. But Jacob simply asked me what the names of the songs were, most of which I didn’t know, then asked me to sing some of the words, hum the tune even, which I did. And he named each and every song! Even with my horrible singing! We ended up deciding on “Luck Be a Lady Tonight,” which I like because it has a few different rhythms that we can play around with, and fun, saucy lyrics that can be acted out. So, it’s not a straight, syrupy love tune. Should be fun. We started playing around with choreographing the beginning, during which he took me down about three-quarters of the way into the splits, which I surprised myself by being able to do. Guess helium-filled stomach did not affect my flexibility too much! Anyway, I think it will be a fun routine.

Here are some more pictures of my trip down south to visit Mom.

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Return of the Ball-Busting Ballroom Dancer…

Aye, I do not know what’s wrong with me. I am doing the same thing to Jacob that I did to poor Luis. And worse, it’s not with my head this time, but with my heel. Jacob was trying to teach me this lift from Tharp’s Sinatra Suites where he picks me up from the waist, I kick one leg up and go into splits in the air, and he swings me around in one rotation in that position. When he brings me down, I’m supposed to do a tango lunge, bending the front knee and sliding the back leg straight down on the floor between his legs. But for some reason, my body, which often works completely independently of my brain, keeps straightening the front leg and bending the back knee, so that my back heel is aimed right at his crotch on my way down. And, unlike Luis, who waited until the coach was around to quietly ask him how to fix this little problem, Jacob does not mince words. “Your heel is coming right at my man-part, Bunny!” he shouted excitedly. Who can blame him? Problem is, it made me all the more nervous, and I started doing it worse. I just can’t figure out what this is about. Did I suffer some weird childhood thing that I’ve repressed? Do I have something to say subconsciously that I can’t bring myself to express in words? Needless to say, we very quickly changed our lift-practice tonight to those where I lie on his back and kick into the air, AWAY from all of his body parts…

BTW, I have Stuttgart Ballet soloist Evan McKie to thank for the goofy term in this post’s title. He’s a newish, and very fun contributor to The Winger. Is it obvious yet how much I adore that website!?!

So, Emmitt has won “Dancing With the Stars.” Good for him, and good for us that footballers have tuned in to our sport in big numbers 🙂 Of course this means that my Latin goddess, Karina Smirnoff, did not take her student all the way to the top. But I got to watch her world-class dancing throughout the season, and got to know her personality a bit, which, happily, I found fun but in control, sweetly sassy, and, above all, damn hard-working, which is expected of anyone at the top of her game. Can’t wait to see you at Blackpool, lady!

Karina at Blackpool

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Teabagging???

Luis said I was doing this to him. Actually, we were coached by school head, Tony Meredith, on Tuesday, for the showcase, and Luis asked him how he could stop this “teabagging” from happening after I smacked my head into his crotch for the umpteenth time doing our “snake” (I think I posted about this trick before, but if not, it’s where he dips me, then I slide backward between his legs and curl around him on the floor, he pivots around and picks me up. Originally, when I was practicing in my soft jazz shoes, everything was fine, but since I’ve begun wearing the Latin stilettos that I’m going to have to dance the showcase in, I’m a good two inches taller, and now I seem to keep whacking my big head into his crotch on my way through his legs). Anyway, I stupidly said, “what’s teabagging,” a little too loudly, causing a bit of a stir in the studio. Apparently it’s a gay thing (what isn’t with L?), and not a bad thing. Which is good because I really thought my hard head was hurting him! Anyway, apparently, according to the brilliant Mr. Meredith, I just need to watch for his crotch and duck! And, if I always look at him (or whomever my partner is), I will also avoid: whacking his right cheek with my left arm when we go into the “scorpion lift” (in which I reach over his body with my left arm, catch my left ankle over his head, then he picks me up and swings me around and around and around and around); kicking him in the back of the head with my left foot on that same lift; piercing all of his toes with my Latin stilettos on cuban rocks in shadow position (where guy is right behind girl, but a little to her side, so he looks like her shadow); bumping him in the crotch on my backward cha chas in same shadow position; and a whole host of other ‘beat-up-on-your-teacher’ probs that I have. And, amazingly, that nifty little bit of wisdom — LOOK at your partner and you will likely avoid hitting, kicking, and stepping on him — has been working … EXCEPT when we dance to the crazy fast, insanely fast music, and then I get so nervous and afraid I’m not going to keep up with Gloria (I know I’ve said this before, but will say again: Do NOT under any circumstances dance to a Gloria Estefan song if you are not a professional – her music is always way way WAY the hell faster than it sounds when you’re sitting on the couch listening!). Anyway, ugh, I am starting to really want this thing to be over with. Just a week and a half now… Here is a pic of my very sore, bruised and battered little knee, from our lovely little snake.

On Monday night, a student who works at Barneys arranged to have some of her makeup artists come to the studio and give us a little demonstration on how to do stage makeup. We learned how to do a Latin face, a Fantasy face, and a Classic Theater face. Here are a couple of pics. I don’t know that I will be able to emulate the Latin face the Bobby Brown guy gave our Latin model, but we did walk away with a handy little Barneys bag of goodies, which included fake eyelashes studded with rhinestones, blush, concealer, high performance cleansing solutions and moisturizer, eyelash adhesive, and an eyelash curler (dramatic lashes are apparently huge in ballroom!)

On Tuesday, after my coaching session with Tony, I met up with Alyssa and we trekked over to the East Village to see ABT dancer Matthew Murphy‘s Two Thirds Quartet, his choreographic debut at Dance Off, at PS 122. It was a lot of fun! Dance Off, which I’d never been to, is apparently an arena where emerging choreographers (mainly of modern dance) can show new work in a small, informal setting. Matt’s piece was the only ballet, and was, in mine and Alyssa’s opinions, leagues above the rest (though I’m a balletomane!), and was an intensely dramatic, rather beautiful duet for two men (one part danced by Matt). We met him afterward, and he’s a very sweet, personable guy who seemed genuinely thankful that we came 🙂 Most dancers I know seem this way — maybe because they’re separated from their families at dance boarding schools and make big career decisions at a young age, they mature quickly, develop good manners and social graces… who knows. Anyway, I thought it was a great accomplishment for someone so young (20), and I love being able to go to things like this here – one of the many things I so love about NYC! I stupidly didn’t think to take pics afterward, but here is a pic beforehand — I sat behind choreographer Elizabeth Streb (and am admittedly a complete goof for being excited about that…)

Finally, I am finally going to be reading from my novel, as part of the Writers’ Room reading series, at the Cornelia Street Cafe, in the Village, on June 21st. I know, this is obviously ridiculously advanced notice, but this is how it is in the lovely world of publishing — everything is so damn far in advance… It really amazes me anyone (a novelist anyway) is actually published before age 40 — they probably wrote the damn novel at 18 and it took all those years of: quering agents, having each one take six months to a year to get back to you, then asking for the first 50 pages of the manuscript, then taking another 6 months to read that, then asking for the whole manuscript, then taking a year to read that, then signing on with you, then having that agent suggest a bizillion rewrites, which you make and send back to her, which she takes a year to read over, only to suggest more, which you make and she takes another year to read, then she sends the manuscript out to editors, who all go through the same process all over again… How do people even get published in their lifetimes?… Ugh. The life of a writer, I’m slowly learning, is waiting, waiting, waiting, and more waiting. Which is why I think blogs are becoming so big … Imagine: writing you can actually have total control over, and can publish whenever you damn well want! What more could anyone want?????

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Missing Kitty, More Books, Emerging Choreographers, and Compagnie Franck II Louise at Fall For Dance Festival

Strange weekend. Today marks the one year anniversary of my cat, Najma’s, death from congestive heart failure. I still miss her after all this time. I still miss the way she would, true to her Russian Blue Breed: open my bedroom and bathroom doors while I was sleeping or showering (Russian Blues don’t like to be left out of ANYTHING, so, seriously, they will stand on their hind legs, and twist the door knob with their paws while applying the proper amount of force to make the door open; only way to keep them out is to actually lock the door); “talk” (again, R.B.’s don’t like to be kept out of ANYTHING, so whenever I had a friend over, she’d inch her fuzzy little silvery gray body between us on the couch and, looking back and forth at whoever was talking, would grunt a little meow, and if you didn’t every once in a while acknowledge her with a “right,” or “oh,” or “uh-huh”, would start to paw at you or even bite! — I had friends who were more than a little creeped out by this behavior… I thought it adorable, of course!); and I miss the way she would sassily shake her little behind when she walked (one leg being shorter than the other). A lot of people don’t understand how hard it is to lose a pet; they figure a pet’s not a human so you should just get over it. But it’s really one of the hardest things in the world. Najma was the first pet I had as an adult, on my own, and she was my little roommate, always home, always there for me. And making the decision to put her to sleep, after both my vet and the emergency animal hospital doctor told me there was nothing more to do — she could be ‘saved’ again through emergency surgery and an oxygen cage but she was likely to go right back into congestive failure and suffocating on fluid in one’s lungs was a horrible way to die — was thus far the hardest thing I’ve had to do in my life… Anyway, I really don’t want to re-live that day… Here are some pics of her that I hung on my magnetic door.

So, trying to escape my depression this weekend … after trekking out to Valentina’s again on Saturday for my initial costume fitting (she’s just cut the material, hasn’t sewn it up yet, so at this stage I can never tell how it’s going to look), I went to an open air book fair in front of the Housing Works Used Bookstore in SoHo. While in SoHo, I passed this interesting public art exhibit comprised of a mass of post-it notes that spelled out the words “To Do” and which allowed passersby to write on the exhibit their own ‘to do’ notes — some very funny entries! The book fair was okay, but they mostly just had used books by established authors. I bought a copy of Saul Bellow’s “Herzog,” Amy Bloom’s collection of short stories, “A Blind Man Can See How Much I Love You,” and this novel I saw on Amazon and have wanted to read, “One Pill Makes You Smaller,” by Lisa Dierbeck. All of the books at the SoHo fair were only $1, but I still liked the Brooklyn Book Festival much better — even though the books were full price, or near full price, I got more exposure to new authors, and independent presses. There need to be more book festivals like the Brooklyn one — in general, there need to be more forums for new, emerging artists.

Speaking of which, Alyssa (wonderful friend who trekked out to Martha’s Vineyard with me to see Marcelo Gomes‘s choregraphic debut) and I are planning to go to the choreographic debut of another ABT dancer, Matthew Murphy, on Tuesday night, as part of Dance Off at P.S.122. He’s posted a bit about it on his blog. I just often find new artists a lot more interesting, a lot fresher, than established ones. Should be fun!

Today, I went to my second of two shows of the Fall For Dance Festival now underway at City Center. This is a great festival — each night five different dance companies perform an excerpt from one of their larger works, so the audience gets exposure to many different companies (most of them the smaller ones that don’t get a lot of publicity). On Friday night, highlights for me included the Dutch National Ballet (performing beautiful contemporary duet, “Before After”, depicting two lovers just before they break up), Pennsylvania Ballet (excerpts from a contemporary piece choreographed to Rufus Wainright music), and Bill. T. Jones dance company’s excerpts from his fascinating “Last Supper at Uncle Tom’s Cabin” (there was so much going on in that one — spoken words, famous text spoken backward — ie: ‘last at free, last at free’, a jazz band, singers, on top of the incredibly amazing dancers, and super fun choreography including crazy turns and jumps, pretend spanking, men lifting other men, etc. etc. etc. — I must definitely see that one again!). Highlight today, and, for me, probably of the entire festival, was Compagnie Franck II Louise, an all male French troupe whose dance style I’d call hip-hop combined with modern, or innovative hip-hop. Franck Louise (who is damn cute, I might add!) spoke before the show at a panel discussion about the uses of technology in choreography, and he said (in French, through an interpretor) that he is a dancer as well as a musician, and he uses this sound machine while choreographing, into which he kind of feeds music, and the machine tosses it around and mixes it up, then spits it back out, and the dancers move their bodies according to how they hear the music. I couldn’t completely understand how the technological device worked, but the dancing his company performed was some of the most innovative and awesome I’ve ever seen. This one guy expanded and contracted his diaphram to create a physical interpretation of the music in rather humorous ways, which I didn’t even know were possible (reminded me in a weird way of the Puppetry of the Penis show I’d seen — I mean, regarding use of the body to make different shapes), and another spun around and around on his head for what seemed to be minutes — I have absolutely no idea how he did that; I definitely would not have thought it impossible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. I luckily had a seat right at the edge of the stage, but I don’t think it mattered where you sat: the audience was screaming, and they got a unanimous standing ovation, the first I’ve seen at this festival. This was their U.S. debut, but if the audience response here is any indication, I’m sure they’re going to be welcomed back at many more venues. They definitely ended my weekend well, getting me over my Najma depression. Go see them whenever you can!

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Saggy Butt is the First Symptom of Serious Ballet Withdraw

And I have it big time. I’d tried on my bikini for my Martha’s Vineyard trip in my home mirror, but only viewed myself from the front; didn’t look at my lovely derriere until I got out there. Yikes. Alyssa told me to shut up and wear it to the beach anyway, as she was wearing hers and was suffering from the same problem, except hers was induced by withdraw from 20+ mile marathon-running, power yogalates, gymnastics and hiking all over such places as Bolivia and Egypt. Alyssa is the consummate amateur athlete, making my dainty ballroom dancing look like cheesecake in comparison. Still, we both have injuries and actually reconnected after not seeing each other for many months then serendipitously meeting at a physical therapy center in SoHo. Except, being the far more serious athlete, her injury was a lot more severe: she tore her hamstring in eight different places whilst doing the splits drunk at her birthday party. But good thing that came out of it was hooking up with the ER doctor… I LOVE Alyssa; thanks to her I have an inkling of what it’s like to be a Sex and the City character 🙂 And I love her for gamely trekking out there with me mainly to see Marcelo Gomes‘s first ballet (and David Hallberg perform it) in Stiefel and Stars, even though she’s not a big ballet fan. Thanks for keeping me company and being adventurous, Alyssa 🙂

The ballet, “Loving,” was beautiful! So sweet and romantic. Someone likened it to Robbins’s “Other Dances” to which I guess it was similar, but with several couples. And, not to be silly, but something about it kind of reminded me of the courting scenes in Martins’s French pastoral “Songs of the Auvergne”- maybe just because the students danced the corps parts. It was urbane, but there was something sweetly innocent and very slightly bucolic. David and Gillian were lovely as the leads — David is always so charming in his dancing. It’s funny reading him on The Winger, where he is just a guy — smart, thoughtful, sophisticated for his age, and somewhat bookish, but just a guy with a guy view of the world, not this princely dancer seemingly from another time. And the costumes, which, according to David, Marcelo designed, were gorgeous! The women and girls wore light summery dresses with haltery tops and flowing, knee-length skirts; Gillian’s top was white — a different color from the rest, and it looked perfect on her. I definitely think he has a future as a choreographer (not to mention fashion designer…)

Alyssa fell completely in love with Ethan, who did nothing more than introduce the school and the program, and apologize for not being able to dance, as he just underwent surgery on both of his knees. Women always fall for that man! I just find it funny that he didn’t even dance and Alyssa, being a normal female, still went for him. I guess it shows that so much of being a performer is personality. I like my favorites for the same reason; I probably just don’t get the appeal of Ethan because he’s straight! (Seriously, my gaydar sucks. Or maybe it’s that I have excellent reverse-gaydar. I met James McGreevey briefly while doing a judicial clerkship in New Jersey and crushed on him so badly; I’m attracted to them before they even know they’re gay…)

Anyway, besides the ballet, we went to the beach, did a lot of touristy things like visit the red cliffs at Gay Head Bluffs and the gingerbread houses in Oak Bluffs, consumed loads of good wine and seafood (me: Pinot Noir — liked it even before Sideways, I swear!, steamed scallops in a bun, wasabi-coated soft-shell crab, and cornbread-crusted cod; Alyssa: Bordeaux and lobster, lobster, and more lobster!), went to several art galleries (Alyssa’s an art history grad student), ate ice cream at Mad Martha’s in Oak Bluffs which our tour guide said is a favorite of Bill and Hillary, and did A LOT of shopping (I bought: a shiny fuscia purse; a tiny ruffly white top to go with this pink and white Betsey Johnson skirt I’ve long been trying to match; two books — one by Styron who once lived on MV about his depression, and one on being an artist by Anna Deveare Smith — at a bookstore owned by this fun, interesting woman who writes about ghost stories and gossip on Oak Bluffs and who’ll be writing a piece on the ballet in the upcoming Martha’s Vineyard Gazette which I will definitely keep my eyes open for; and two photographs, a sketch, and a print at two different galleries. Alyssa bought some wampun jewelry — made from the purplish coloring found inside the shells of clams native to the area, a sweater, an aromatic tea set for her godmother, and three books — one on African art, which is her area of specialization, and two by the writer / bookstore owner.) Here are some pictures of the trip.

Now we are back in NYC and I’m very nervous about all the work I have to do (basically research and write two briefs) before I head down to Florida for the US DanceSport nationals a week from tomorrow. We got back later last night than expected and I was very tired for my lesson tonight with Luis. He could tell, so instead of practicing lifts that could be dangerous when half asleep, he spent a lot of time talking over the choreography and brainstorming about my costume (I wanted a cute ruffly skirt and peasant top; he was thinking more hot pants with red fringe and basically no top — he’s got another thing coming; I don’t do skimpy tops ever but especially not with upside-down lifts…), and hair (he wants me to get extensions for fullness and for me to wear my hair in curlers all night the night before and all day the day of the performance (which is going to go over really well at work, especially if I get any surprise visits from clients’ families…). Ugh. AND, he decided to make some changes to the choreography — after listening to the music again, he felt one of the lifts should go in another spot than where it was. Which sent me into a frenzy. Apparently, he still does not realize that I’M A TOTAL AMATEUR and making any changes to the choreography a mere six weeks before the performance is nothing short of hysteria inducing. I’ve noticed that when I’m not dancing regularly, I get really nervous about my private lessons. It takes me forever to learn choreography, I’m scared of new things (like overhead lifts and dips where I have to support my own weight), and I just can’t move well (he tried to teach me how to shake my knees so fast that my whole body vibrates, and I could not for the life of me do it — it involves simply bending and straightening your knees, albeit at lightening speed…). Well, my hips and left knee are still a bit achy (from the tendonitis and slight meniscus tear, respectively) and my adductor muscle is still sore, but if I’m going to be donning tight ass pants and not have a nervous breakdown over minor changes in my routine, I’m definitely gonna need to go back to Steps…

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Penis-Head, Non-Sexist Doctors, and Trigeminal Autonomic Cephalgia!!!

So, I went to Columbia Headache Center, spent several hours with a headache specialist, and this was my diagnosis! Not penis-head — that was Luis’s diagnosis. I had my films with me from a former brain MRI I’d had that my neurologist had given me to take to the headache specialist, and after looking at the slides, he told me I could keep them. So, since I go to the dance studio on my way home, I had the films with me, and when Luis asked me what was in the huge shiny silvery envelope marked “images” and I told him “my brain,” he said, “cool, I’ve never seen one of those before. Let’s see!” So there we stood in the middle of the studio floor, under the chandelier, looking at a bunch of small images of my brain from various viewpoints. In one of the shots that looked like it was taken directly above my head, Luis found an object that he thought was shaped exactly like a penis (only Luis!). I couldn’t completely make it out, but Luis obviously has much more experience with male genitalia than I do, so I believed him. He yelled, “now we know what’s on YOUR brain, Tonya!” He also found some shapes resembling grass and weeds… So, my diagnosis from the head pain neurologist was “Trigeminal Autonomic Cephalgia,” and my diagnosis from my gay dance teacher was “Penis Brain.”

Anyway, I’m very excited about my diagnosis — my official one that is! After patiently listening to me go on and on and on about my latest headache episode, the doc said right off I have this rare neurological disorder, so rare that not a whole lot is known about it other than certain meds work on it and certain ones don’t. And apparently it’s not dangerous, like stroke or aneuyrism-related, thank God! It’s just one of those things, where the person gets certain kinds of pain — in my case pain in one temple and side of my head and in my sinus cavities on that same side– as well as sinusitis-like conditions — congested nose, ear, and very watery eye and swollen lid. But there really isn’t a sinus condition, which is why the antibiotics the doctor had given me to kill the sinus and eye infections I didn’t really have, and all the decongestants, did nothing. And since it wasn’t a migraine, that is why the migraine meds didn’t work either. So, now I’m armed with an entirely new arsenal of meds for the next one. One even comes in the form of a shot! He taught me how to administer the shot myself. I have to stab myself the leg hard and fast. It kind of made me queasy thinking about it, but I KNOW the next time I have that severe of pain, I’m not gonna be thinking about being queasy! Because the pain and sinusitis-like conditions are brought on simply by the way the brain is structured, it’s NOT about caffeine, chocolate, MSG, cheese, stress, lack of sleep, or estrogen. It is just because it is, basically. So the reason I’m so excited about being diagnosed with a rare, scary-sounding neurological disorder? For one, I feel unique — how many people can say they have Trigeminal Autonomic Cephalgia?!? And, two, and most important, is that I feel vindicated! I KNEW IT WASN’T A MIGRAINE; I KNEW IT WASN’T A MIGRAINE; I KNEW IT WASN’T A MIGRAINE!!! So, NO ONE can tell to just deal with it until my period’s over, like a woman should, lie down with a cold rag on my head, not take on so much so as to stress myself out, or even just that I injest too much coffee, wine and chocolate. The doctor laughed when I screamed all this out at him. Even if they were migraines, he assured me, I was regurgitating the old decrepit school of thought — telling a woman she should take it easy lest she ‘compromise her delicate composition’ etc. If they were migraines, he’d give me meds responsive to migraines, not tell me I shouldn’t try to be a lawyer, writer and dancer at once. So, my doctor’s COOL! Because, honestly, another general pract I’d seen for these (yet another time my regular primary doc was out on vacation) told me exactly that: I was doing far too much and needed calm. And I remember him focusing on my job too… “You don’t really like being a lawyer, do you?”, as if such a profession was enough to mentally destroy any poor girl, or as if, even if I did hate it, that had anything to do with the fact that my eye was the size of a golfball, I couldn’t breathe out of one nostril or hear out of one ear, and it felt like someone was stabbing me repeatedly on the side of my head. Who would think that sounded even mildly like a migraine??? But of course they were migraines because I’m a female of child-bearing age, and that’s the kind of headache females of child-bearing age get. That doctor was near retirement (and now is, thankfully); my new head pain specialist was pretty young — late 30’s. And the fact he wasn’t far out of med school worked in my favor too — he remarked when he diagnosed me that he could barely remember this weird disorder from his textbooks; a doctor who’d been practicing longer, and never seen a patient with it, might not have. Ugh. I don’t give a damn if I sound ageist, but if older means too sexist to give a proper diagnosis and proper medical treatments, they need to change the way they think or get out of the profession.

Okay, off to bed. So I can get up early for my trip tomorrow morning to Martha’s Vineyard for beach and ballet!!

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Help — What Do Real Dancers Do???

I took the day off from work Tuesday and made my annual trek out to the Winter Garden restaurant on the Brooklyn boardwalk to enjoy my little golden pot of red caviar with mounds of buttered bread and Russian white wine whilst taking in the alimentary ocean air and lovely sights of the charmingly vast cross-section of humanity found on Brighton Beach / Coney Island 🙂 See photos beginning here. This has become an annual tradition of mine since reconnecting over the same “brunch” with a friend from college Russian classes a few years ago after recognizing each other at an alumni event in the city. Except now that she’s gone to Washington DC to do fancy State Department things, I just go out on my own now — kinda my little celebration of the beginning of the summer, which started way late for me this year since work was a total bitch all the way through mid July… Anyway, after my totally dehydrating meal of salt and alcohol, I decided to walk to the other end of the boardwalk and visit the Aquarium, so I could reconnect with my little friends — the happy smiling beluga whale, bashfully adorable sea horses, scary great whites, and my favorite, the leafy sea dragon — the most oddly beautiful little creature who looks like a cross between a fish, seahorse, and, as his name implies, leaf, which he maintains for camoflage. I’d forgotten that the beluga had passed away last year, they no longer had either the leafy or weedy sea dragons, and I missed the bloody shark feeding frenzy, but I did get to see the sea lion performance in the center tank, and plenty of cute wiskery otters and elephantine walruses seemingly trying to rub up against us humans via the glass of the underground tank separating us from them. And there were plenty of little seahorses, although it was really upsetting me that no one was obeying the PLETHORA of “please don’t take flash photos” signs. Sea horses in particular are very shy and easily frightened, poor things. Of course I don’t mind flashing away at a certain bravura ABT dancer doing a dangerous leap during curtain call, but no way will I harm a tiny defenseless fish!

Anyway, between dehydrating myself with food and wine, surrounding myself with sneezing coughing children, and getting caught in an actually quite chilly seabreeze, I woke up in the middle of the night with a horrible sore throat. Ended up coming down with the second of the two bouts of flu I’ve had in only six months. My doctor had offered to send me to get a vaccine this year since there was no shortage, but I said no bother, didn’t get vaccine or illness last year, I’ll be fine. I’m never, ever not getting it again! I was out cold for two weeks in February, and have been sick for five days now. I finally felt it beginning to degenerate into a cold yesterday, but last flu that cold turned into a flaming burning searing sinus infection. And, a few hours ago, I noticed a scratching sensation in my left eye, followed by intermittent bluriness. I changed contact lenses, but after it continued to hurt, I looked in the mirror to see the eye was completely red, swollen, and draining some kind of clear but steady substance. Doctor mom says it’s an infection. I’m gonna call the real doctor tomorrow, but if it is, I’m scared she’s going to tell me I have to wear glasses for a while. I can’t wear them at all, especially in dance. Not only will they fly off during a lift — forget a lift — a simple spin even — but I have no depth perception since I never wear them since I have a weirdly shaped face, which no pair can fit correctly. I’ve been wearing them for three hours now and have stubbed both toes twice on various apartment furniture that appeared much farther away than they actually were, slammed my right shoulder into the wall rounding the kitchen corner, and almost missed a stair on the way out of my building to the corner bodega. But even if I was used to them, they’d never stay put during any low-level trick. What do real dancers do when these things happen? I mean, I’m trying to take good care of my knees and hips now, doing my strengthening exercises regularly and taking Advil and epsom salt baths at the first sign of inflammation, and I’m TRYING to eat well. But I never thought of a flu / cold turning into an eye infection requiring me to wear glasses as a potential problem. And, although my performance is still a couple of months away, now is the time I really have to start getting serious. Luis warned me last lesson now that we’re done choreographing he’s going to start being a total hardass on me. I assured him I was ready; now I might have to cancel my next lesson? The key obviously is to stay healthy in the first place, which, for some reason, the last couple years I have not been able to do. Anyone sneezes within a half mile of me and my throat is on fire next morning. Are there super-vitamins? I was taking Centrum, but that didn’t seem to be doing anything for me. Professional dancers never seem to get sick??? Oooh, hopefully the doctor will give me two days of amoxicillan and it’ll be all over. If I can even call her; my voice is starting to give into laringytis. Could I be more of a mess?

Anyway, before coming down with the full-fledged flu, I managed to see a couple performances by the San Francisco Ballet, which just finished a week-long run at Lincoln Center. Tuesday, their opening night, I spotted two “celebrities” — dance writer and former ABT soloist Joseph Carman, and with him William Cubberly, the publisher of the book they put together with photographer Roy Round, Round About the Ballet. I’d met Cubberly before, in Barnes and Noble, but when he asked me, camped out on the floor perusing the glossy photos, what I thought, frustrated from having just been hit on by a very annoying guy, I was kind of rude to him, without of course realizing he was just the author wanting to know what I thought of his book! Now I’m not even sure he’s straight, so I’m laughing even more at myself for having thought he was trying to pick me up 🙂 Anyway, they passed right by me, but I said nothing — I’m far too shy 🙁 Then, Thursday, I saw Mark Morris‘s Sylvia (okay, I was a bit run-down by then, but I swear, I didn’t breathe on a single soul!), which was okay and better than the Ashton the ABT does (though no one but NO ONE makes a better Aminta than the splendid David Hallberg!) but I was hoping for something a bit more iconoclastic from Morris, even though Playbill warned not to… Speaking of Mr. Tall and Beautiful (Hallberg, of course), I saw his radiant blonde head up in the Fourth Ring. Wasn’t sure at first whether it was him, because he said on The Winger he was going to Mexico for a break and I didn’t know whether he was back yet, but his friend and fellow ABT dancer Matthew Murphy posted on his blog that they saw the ballet that night, so I was right :):) He was just sauntering around, in jeans and a t-shirt, like a normal person, not the STAR he is :):)

Okay, time for more nighttime Robitussin. I just wanna be well, dammit! Two days ago, I told myself to be glad the Cadbury 5 I’d gained at Blackpool was now gone; now, I just wanna crave a cheeseburger and fries, would give anything to have my appetite back. Even if my eye thing is nothing serious, I’m not going to have the energy to dance…

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Dumber Than a 6-Year-Old, 6 is the New 14, and Money Money Money!

I cannot for the life of me memorize my choreography. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Luis and I have our Latin combo Cha Cha / Samba / Salsa / Merengue routine almost finished, except for the “series of overhead lifts and tricks” (yikes…) he has planned, which we couldn’t choreograph yet because we need the big studio with the high ceilings (double yikes…) for that. I spent all afternoon Sunday watching and re-watching and re-re-watching the damn video I made of us, and I thought I had it all down, but when he turned on the blasted music and we were actually going at it, I forgot everything! David Hallberg posted a picture on The Winger of a bunch of little kids, by the looks of it not more than 6 years old, tremendously excited about having little roles in ABT‘s Le Corsaire last week. He commented how he could have never remembered his choreography at that age. And it made me think, ‘geez, I am dumber than a 6 year old kid…’ — just like when you’re in a foreign country trying so hard to learn the language and some little local kid comes along and blurts out sentence after sentence after sentence in perfect fluency and you feel like the greatest idiot…

On top of learning this choreography and mastering these crazy to-come lifts, I have a new worry over my head: money. Ballroom dancing is getting really expensive. I mean, I want to practice practice practice until I’m as perfect as possible — because how are my routines possibly going to look good if I don’t? But that’s hard when I have to pay a lot of money for every 50-minute lesson with each of my two teachers. I’m going to practice on my own as much as I can, and kill myself with far less expensive ballet classes for overall dance technique, but I can’t really practice lifts very well on my own. And you can’t really practice much in ballroom alone — ballroom by definition takes two. At the studio last night, one of my fellow students, who competed in a local pro-am competition last weekend, was all upset because her husband came unglued over her I won’t say how many thousand dollar credit card bill last MONTH. Unfortunately, it is so believable to me that you could rack up a several thousand dollar bill in only one month on this kind of dancing. Gowns are around $1000 at least, competition entry fees well over a thousand, teacher fees in the hundreds, likewise studio fees, and the bizillions of private lessons you need to get yourself ready. .. it’s breathtaking, really. And this was in Brooklyn, so there weren’t even any transportation costs. I jokingly told her to tell him, “please, dear, it’s necessary to my human development,” but I felt like she’s really lucky to have a husband who can afford it in the first place! I certainly don’t; and am struggling to afford it myself as it is…

Anyway, to try to calm myself down, I went to see The Devil Wears Prada. Mad great wicked fun! Of course I sat in the raucous-with-laughter ‘gay man section’ so that might have (greatly) helped set the mood for my viewing… Very campy in a “Valley of the Dolls” sort of way and somewhat satirical like “Heathers” or “Clueless,” and the genius screenwriter both gave Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci some nastily cool lines and re-wrote the plot to make it sweeter and with more heart than the book. At one point, in explaining to protagonist Andy why Streep was really going out on such a limb to hire her — “the smart fat girl” — Tucci exclaims that size 4 is the new 2, 2 the new 0, and 6 (Andy’s size of course) the new 14! Very wickedly funny movie, and far better than the book.

On one last note, I want to bring attention to Doug Fox‘s new blog, Dance That Matters, which will deal with how dance informs and speaks to the compelling social issues of our time, such as global warming, genocide, and wrongful incarceration, and will log what dancers and dance companies are doing to help improve their communities. As someone with a keen interest in both social justice issues and dance, I am really hoping this takes off. Go Doug!

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Male Ballerinas, Bad Non-Brazil-Rooting Ballroom Dancers, and Social Issues at the ABT

My pics from the Manhattan DanceSport Championships are now up on the photo page. It was a lot of fun — I always like this comp because, being in Brooklyn Heights, it’s in an area easily accessible by public transportation and near courthouse-area parks and Montague Street eateries, and, since it’s local, I end up knowing lots of people and reconnecting with old dance friends. Expectedly, Jonathan Wilkins and Katusha Demidova won the Standard, Tony Dovolani and Elena Grinenko the American Rhythm, and one of my favorite couples — Maxim Kozhevnikov and Yulia Zagorouitchenko won the Latin (current US champs Andrei Gavriline and Elena Kruychkova didn’t compete for some reason; I didn’t see the American Smooth comp). The only grumble I had was, on Saturday the 3rd, after finishing watching my friend compete in Pro/Am Standard, I ran to the hotel bar to catch the second half of the World Cup game only to see, horribly, Brazil lose. And all of the crazed Standard dancers watching with me cheered wildly when France won??? Ugh, evil Standard people! That never would have been the case had the Latin comps been underway at the time! Actually, it well could have been the same. Almost all ballroom dancers, Standard and Latin both, are European and likely root for European teams. Plus, I think I am the only person who actually takes an interest in the culture from which these dances emerge. . .

Anyway, backtracking a bit, I went to the ballet (ABT) on Friday night to see Marcelo! and Julie perfom Swan Lake. The ballet is not one of my favorites, but Marcelo! is. This year marks Julie’s, I think 20th anniversary with the company, and during curtain call, Marcelo! did a Nureyev and bowed down to her, and on one knee, took her hand and dramatically kissed it:):):) Of course Fonteyn scolded the boy Rudik, telling him it made her feel like an old lady. Julie seems too sweetly down-to-earth to say the same though. Earlier, when Marcelo! came out alone, someone tossed a bouquet onstage, and he caught it mid-air with one hand, just like a football (American football of course). Gia Kourlas of TONY said of Julio, after removing his ballet shoes and placing them atop Giselle’s grave during his last ever performance of that ballet a week ago, “Bocca may not be a ballerina but he certainly knows how to act like one.” Well, Julio was Marcelo!’s little-boy role model so… Although I think Marcelo!’s a much more interesting ballerina — a big, brawny, 20-foot-high leaping, football-catching, leading-lady-worshipping one! Marcelo!’s inner ballerina rocks!!

On a more serious note, included in the ABT’s Playbill this month was a survey form that they asked be filled out and deposited in a box in the opera house or mailed in. The survey consisted of interesting questions such as which are your favorite full-length ballets and what do you like about them, and who are your favorite choreographers, both contemporary and classical, and why. It made me think, and I started to answer. Then, at the bottom of the form, it asked for the survey-taker’s salary. It listed many ranges, but extremely specific ones, starting from ‘under $50,000’ and going up in less than $10,000 increments, ending at ‘above $175,000’. I found this interesting. I’ve definitely seen surveys asking for the person’s general income-level, but in $50,000 increments, so the testers basically wanted to know who their demographic was. But this form was too specific for that, they seemed to want to know your exact salary, as if the degree to which they intended to take into account my choice of ballets and choreographers was based on what level of patronage I could give them. First, I think that’s rude to be so obvious, and second, don’t they know that the wealthiest people in New York are living off of trust funds and don’t even have salaries? They would have been better served asking what’s in people’s bank accounts or investment portfolios. I don’t even really like most of the ballets they put on; I come for the dancers. They nicely offered first-time subscribers discounted orchestra tickets, so I’ve been sitting either in the orchestra, for performances that are either part of my subscription plan or for matinees which are less expensive, otherwise in the balcony. Friday night was almost sold out, and they only had family circle tickets left, so I sat up there. And I realized that, unless you’re in the first couple of rows in the orchestra, you can see almost the same from the family circle as you can from anywhere else. I also encountered lots of interesting people up there — there were several giggly teenaged girls who were obviously dance students and would burst out laughing whenever the dancers did something impossibly great. I honestly felt like I learned something just listening to them. Next to me was a large, burly construction-worker-type who resembled Herb Ritts’ Vladimir without his makeup on, sitting, interestingly, alone, and, judging by his howls during the curtain call, was a fellow Marcelo! fan. And behind me were several elderly couples watching with mesmerized looks on their faces, as well as a young mother trying to explain to her two little daughters the beauty of the ballet. I honestly found family circle patrons a much more interesting bunch than the people who sit in orchestra and, although I understand a large ballet company’s need for financial support, family circle patrons’ interests should not be taken lightly! Anyway, whatever bad taste ABT’s management left in my mouth, happily, my fellow family-circle spectators and Marcelo! cured 🙂

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World Premier Ballet, Affordable Art, and Braassill!!!…

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Fun NY weekend ahead! Tonight is a world premier ballet at the New York City Ballet (the last premier of this season’s Diamond Project of new ballets by contemporary choreographers). (I’m going to have SO much more free time when the NYCB and ABT seasons are both over in mid-July…)

Tomorrow is The Affordable Art Fair in Chelsea, which I’ve never been to, but looks exciting. Art priced between $100 and $5000 is being sold and there are going to be lectures on how poor people (like me!) can start their collections. My favorite gallery, DFN Gallery, is going to have a booth, and, according to their email, is going to be selling work by one of my favorites who regularly exhibits there, Dan Witz. I see Witz as someone who kind of turns Thomas Kincade (the “artist of light” with his cheesy nostalgia for quaint cottages, horse-drawn carriages and tourist landmarks) on his head. Witz uses light in his paintings (which are amazingly photo-like) to evoke shelter and community in urban settings. In one of my favorites of his, the light radiates out from the inside of a Brooklyn bodega on an otherwise desolate streetcorner late at night, signifying that inside is a place of warmth, safety, familiarity, and community. I have no idea how much any of his work is going for, but I took a post-card sized copy of that painting on the back of the press release from the gallery, framed it, and hung it in my apartment. So, thus far that is my idea of affordable art — extremely affordable seeing as how it’s free!

And Sunday, Father’s Day though it is, I’ve managed to get some friends together to go to a Brazilian restaurant to watch the game. Not exactly the Brazilian place I had in mind — which was in Astoria, where I used to live, and I figured out of the way enough that it would only attract locals and not tourists — but some of my friends are coming from Brooklyn, so it’s too much to ask them to go all the way up to Queens. So, we’re going to one of the Sushi Samba places in the Flatiron District. I know absolutely nothing of soccer, but because studying dance made me fall so in love with Samba, I’ve became intrigued by all things Brazilian. So, me and my crazy friends who humor me, are going to root for Brazil! Since I know nothing about the game, I figured I’d go buy that new book The Thinking Fan’s Guide. It was not very well received in Time Out New York, but that reviewer did give a thumbs up to the guy who wrote the piece on Brazil, as well as to Nick Hornby, my favorite author of lad lit, bloke lit, whatever they call it in England (actually, it’s really chick lit since it garners almost an all-female audience…). Hopefully by Sunday I’ll have some clue as to what I’m seeing…

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If It Takes Five Minutes to Make A Sexy Pose…

it’s not dancing, it’s modeling! Luis discarded all of the choreography he’d done so far, which was fine since I was having a ridiculously hard time remembering the small between-tricks steps, and decided to construct a series of sexy poses that I’m to hit on each of three beats at the start of the song (btw, don’t ever dance to Gloria Estefan — it sounds fun until you start actually to try to keep the beat and then realize how flipping fast it is!). We ended up spending most of the lesson on this since I was having such difficulty striking the perfect pose (especially on the exact beat), and he was being a perfectionist rearranging my hair (and teaching me how to flip it so it’d land just so), pulling back on my shoulders and pushing my chest out (don’t think I’ll ever stop having posture problems), adjusting pelvis, hips, arms, wrists, fingers, knees, toes, etc. etc. etc. ETC. to put me in the perfect state of sexiness (I LOVE working with a gay man!!). So, now I think I have the poses right, but it takes so long for me to strike it perfectly when I’m trying to move at lightning speed, and then it’s so hard to make sure I get the right connection with him so I don’t lose my balance and make him throw his back out catching me. We didn’t work on the overhead lifts since he was sore from moving over the weekend, but I think I am ready when he is. I think. I am trusting him more — we worked on this one trick where I fall forward (holding his hands of course) and before I hit the ground, he whips me up and turns me over and I slide up in a body roll. I know he’s strong and I’m not going to fall, but it’s one thing to know that in your brain and another to tell it to your body in the midst of the trick…

My former West Coast Swing partner, Mark, informed me that everyone in the WCS (how the dance is abbreviated in the “industry”) community is very excited about Benji Schwimmer making it to the finals on So You Think You Can Dance with his partner Heidi, who teaches at one of Mark’s studios. He said the judges seemed a bit confused about what exactly WCS was, but were very impressed, especially with Heidi. I saw a repeat of the show and remember seeing her in Blackpool do a demonstration on WCS versus Jive. She is truly an awesome dancer! I don’t watch a lot of TV because I am usually at either some studio or opera house at night (and tonight is Vladimir night at the Met!!!), but my WCS friends must definitely keep me posted on this! WCS officially on the dance map, yay!

I went to the New York City Ballet last night to see one of the new ballets they are putting on as part of their spring season’s Diamond Project, where they show brand new ballets by contemporary choreographers — one of the reasons I like that company — they perform a combination of classics and contemporary work, so you get a mix. This one was by a Russian choreographer, Alexi Ratmansky, called The Russian Seasons, and was very interesting — dramatic and humorous by turns, with plain but gorgeously-flowing costumes. I’ve seen all of the new ones except for two, and my favorite has been Evenfall, sweetly Swan Lake-like, by their resident choreographer, Christopher Wheeldon, who I think is a genius and have liked practically everything I’ve seen him do.

And, Lincoln Center is now gearing up for Midsummer Night’s Swing outside in the plaza! Luis and his partner, Anya, will be performing and teaching salsa on June 28th!