This post is especially for those of you who still think that my rehearsals were all prancing around on grass patches a la My Little Pony, playing with water and fairy-dancing.
Yes, yes. So I’ve reminded everyone not come expecting So You Think You Can Dance kinda backflips and babyfreeze and pirouettes, but it doesn’t mean what we have been doing is not grueling at all.
If anything at all, rehearsals get more and more intense every time; even if it’s just an additional of one activity, or a variation on something we have done. Our ten-minute push/pull, throw/catch, straight/curvy warm-ups have me drenched in sweat, heaving for air, and I love it.
I still worry. I worry that what I’m doing is not good enough. That my moves are too predictable or contrived. I worry that I am doing something too similar to someone else. I worry that I come across as superficial and amateurish. I worry non-stop.
But the moment Charlene sounds her chime and we start… I lose myself. Because I have to. Because I have to invest myself fully now, and worry later. Because if I don’t risk being silly and superficial now, I always be afraid, and always just worry, wondering what could have been.
Bestie discovered a million bruises on me yesterday. And that’s excluding the abrasions that are out of public sight (thank god!). And the skin that got ripped off which I keep covered up for fear of infection.
Coincidentally, the frame I was given to work with this week was “Warrior”.
And so I shall wear these with pride.
Welcome to Dream Country, everybody!
Stealing Time 