The Most Important Interesting Things

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I should be studying, but there comes a time at which one must stop doing productive things, go get a bowl of ice-cream swathed in caramel sauce, and sit down and write a blog.

Yesterday I recieved a very unexpected phone call from an old friend I hadn't heard from in years. (Not even on FB!)  We chatted for a bit, but as with most unexpected phone calls, there was a deeper reason for this one.  Turns out he has been struggling a little lately...with graduation coming up he now has to decide (again) what to do with his life, and whether or not he's wasted the last four years.  On top of that, one of his friends recently died in an accident while they were on vacation together.  This means his natural tendency toward self-reflection has increased, and he's now beginnning to question whether his life "is good enough".  He sees the goals and accomplishments of most of his friends and wonders why he doesn't share them.  Has he done enough with his life?  Is he where he should be?  Is this what he really wants to do in life?  Most of all, he says, he'd like to feel needed.

In situations like this I feel woefully inadequate as a source of consolation.  I am really good at listening, but not so good at helping.  I tried to tell him some things that I've found to be true, such as "you can't compare your life to others
a) because you are different and individual and so is your path to your personal happiness and
b) you don't really know what their life is all about so you can't make an accurate comparison anyway".  I tried to let him know what a great person I know him to be, and to encourage him and help him see that life is not always as bleak as it seems at 11pm.

Truthfully though, I can't really help him...because I can't really relate to his problems.  I have (and always have had) two things in my life that bring me happiness and give my life meaning and purpose. 

1) I have always known what I want to do with my life.  I love ballet, and dance, and the performing arts so much.  They are the most important, interesting things in life.  It amazes me that not everyone thinks so ;)  I feel so lucky that I get to be involved in this world as my career.  I get paid to do things I would want to do anyway, and dang it if I won't give up a whole lot for this art I've invested 72% of my life in.  Plus, I think I'm kind of good at it.  Not genius, just good.  I feel respected and needed as a teacher, and I'm building my choreographic talents (slowly, and with the help of many mentors), I'm satisfied with my time as a full-time professional dancer and my skills as a performer.  I underestimate what a huge, self-affirming blessing this is in my life. 

2) I have a testimony that following the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the best way to find happiness in this life, and the only way to find a fullness of joy in the life to come.  Not only do these truths bring me comfort and help me to have a direction in my life, but the love that God has for me and the manifestations of it in my life, actively give me strength when I have none; give me wisdom when it seems there is nothing to be done; bring a peace to my soul that I know does not come from within my own self.  This is the reason that I can keep going when I find myself in situations like my friend is in.  This is why I know that everything will be ok, the answers I need will be found, the growing I need to do will get done and I will be happier because of it: because I have tested it, and found it to be true.

I don't mean to boast, or say I'm so glad I'm better off than my friend here.  Rather I want to be greatful because these are great gifts and blessings.  Even though I have struggled because my life lacks some obvious things that I'd really like, I really have so much, and I am very happy.

Thank You.

Fall Break = Stage 3

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It is fall break.  I have slept in two days in a row and gotten lots of things done -- though none of them were important or school related. 

Monday: I finally got to target to replenish my supplies of toothpaste, TP, and Raid.  It was a nice outing with my sister and her lovely baby.  I also ended up splurging on some new "4" clothes and jewelry.

Fifteen minutes to kill = impromptu photo shoot.  Glamorous.

 

 

 

 

Actually went to FHE!! One of probably 5 or 6 times since I've been a young single adult (seriously).  This was also the first time I've had fun at a corn maze.

Tuesday: lunch with Adam at a new soup 'n' sandwich dive on Highland drive.  Philosophical, as always.  Though we hated the overhead music so much we left in a hurry and ended up going cologne shopping.  Apparently, there's a new men's fragrance that comes with it's own outfits and accessories ??really??  (I couldn't find a pic of the one that came with a little wet suit and scuba gear).  Not the most productive outing, but it did inspire me to finally go buy that fragrance from Anthropologie that I've had my nose on since July.

Rounded out the evening with a dollar flick and a visit to smashburger.  mmmmmmm. (Thanks to my spontaneous buddy!)

This should all feel relaxing, but somehow I can't enjoy it as I'd like to.  I guess that's 'cause I know that I'm in denial and that I'm prolonging the inevitable.  I might be distracting myself with friends and family, but I will eventually have to face homework and school and the dreadful reality of the world again.

sigh

Ah. Who am I kidding?  It's just always going to be hard giving someone up.  I even have my own "stages of grief" for it: 1) Snooze Button (putting off the inevitable), 2) Denial/Fantasy (the stage which the writers of those horribly improbable and dramatic endings to chick flicks are intimately familiar with), 3) Distraction ("wow.  I forgot about all these people I used to be friends with" and "work is my life"), 4) Self-Identification (where I become the "me" that is totally self-defined and "unfettered" by the opinions and interests of men - esp the one I'm getting over), 5)Rebound (I like to skip this one, if at all possible), and finally: 6) Off (it's too painful to be single and want someone, so let's be single and not want someone; hence the turning "off" of the romantic side).

Even with all the blah that comes with breaking up, the part I regret the most is not being able to enjoy the friendship I've cultivated.  Having spent time getting to know someone and how awesome they are, sharing so many interests and having so many memories and then all of a sudden....gone.  It is necessary, and I know that, but the hole left behind just feels so painfully unfair. 

"Who said life was fair?  Life isn't fair.  Where is that written?"

"I'm telling you you're messing up the story! Now get it right!"

"Do you want me to go on with this, or not?"

"Yes."

"Alright...At noon she met her subjects again, this time as their queen..."

I feel like I've been across the channel with the shrieking eels....up the cliffs of insanity...through the fire swamp....
The hardest part is waiting around in the castle for those four fastest ships....or four white horses....whichever.

Showcase

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OK!  I will finally be posting the results of all the hard work my dancers and I put into "Liberarse" for the fall Ballet Student Showcase.  It was actually quite a stressful time, and a long story, so I've been putting it off until I had a bit of time to spare.

Tech week began for us on Sept. 22 with spacing rehearsal.  Lighting for the show was spread out over three days to give each of the sixteen pieces a large enough chunk of time to work with Cole, our resident lighting designer and Stage Manager.  Lighting for my piece was scheduled for Mon. the 27th, because we were last on the program, so I was able to use the weekend to make the costumes for my piece.

Don Quixote

Usually, ballet students are allowed to borrow from the costume shop rent-free provided they cover the cleaning expenses ($25 of which is reimbursed by the dept.).  I had visited the shop and put some Latin-y red and black dresses on hold, but ballet dresses that might work great for Don Quitxote, don't really do it for a contemporary salsa number.  In classic "me" fashion, I decided to make my own, rather than settle for something so-so. 

I designed some simple accent-type garments that could be tied over a leotard and that wouldn't require any sewing (I do have limited amounts of time and $!), spent about $80 on sparkly gold fabric and sequin trim, and five or six hours creating them.  Lighting on Monday went really well.  Cole was incredibly patient with me and all my demands.  We lit the sic with bright red fading to a rich blue throughout the piece and a flashy light show at the end.  It really accented the gold costumes well, I thought.

Incidentally, a photographer from The Daily Utah Chronicle, affectionately known as the "Chrony", was there taking pictures of me and my dancers for an article that was being run on "Liberarse" for the Wednesday edition.  I was a little disconcerted by the attention, but flattered nonetheless.

On the way home I got a call from the erratic and capricious Chair of the Ballet Dept.  She had a suggestion for my piece: just black leotards and black skirts.  After spending 30 minutes lighting the piece for gold costumes, I told her I didn't think that was such a good idea.

"Alright then," she says, "we're just going to have to change the order then, because I can't have it closing the show looking the way it does."

Stunned, I spent the next fifteen minutes dragging out of her what it was - exactly - about the piece that looked so bad.  Basically, it was her opinion that the costumes lacked style and the choreography was "getting lost" in the sloppiness.  It was almost all I could do to not get angry with her.  Mustering whatever powers of patience and tact I had, I asked her to give me a chance to fix the problem.  She gave me 'til tech rehearsal the next night.

Tuesday morning was spent buying out the valley's fabric stores of every last yard of the same kind of fabric I'd already purchased (an additional $80).  Tuesday afternoon I was on the floor of the AV room cutting out twelve new dance dresses.  I am incredibly grateful to the guys in there for letting me "glitter up" their floor and for putting up with my ranting and moaning while I desperately tried to squeeze six dresses out of three and 1/2 yards of fabric.  (I did it! with some very creative patterning that would have made Star Trek's costumer proud).  Tuesday evening was spent sewing on sequins in between running rehearsal and distributing shoes.  By 7:45 all sixteen of my dancers had dresses that fit, and at 7:55 we were on-stage for the tech run-through.

I am ashamed to say, through this whole process I was pretty upset at Bene', and I made no secret of it.  I was angry at the words she had used to describe my work and her nihilistic approach to the whole thing; deciding immediately to move the piece from it's position because it wasn't good enough rather than giving me feedback and helping me fix it.  After 22 hours I'd gotten myself pretty worked up.

The girls went on, danced splendidly, looked incredibly chique and sparkly, and banged out a sharp ending.  From the audience was heard a single half-cawed "great!" and the lights came up.  Bene' turned to me (I was sitting one row behind her) and said, "That looks good." and walked out.

It was a late night, I didn't take offense at her walking out so quickly, but I was still upset.  As I mulled it over through the run of the show, I realized that I really had no cause to be upset at all.  Bene' is a strange bird; always has been, and she knows it.  I know what her communication style is like (it's quite similar to my own -- which has a tendency toward tactless insensitivity) and I should not have taken offense when all she was trying to do was her job.  She did me a big favor by calling me the night of lighting rehearsal and honestly telling me how my piece looked.  I had been too stressed and too close to the project to see it.  The costumes I had designed really did take away from the effect of the piece.  They were too mixed, too haphazard, and they didn't match the tightness the choreography sought to convey.  The new costumes really looked so much better.  If Bene' was less than the brutally honest yet very experienced artist that she is, I would not have learned this lesson, and my piece would not have looked nearly as good as it eventually did.  I realized I really did owe her a lot.

This last Tuesday I was able to catch her and make a sort of an apology, and I think we're back on common ground.  I just have to remember that she is as imperfect as I, and I need to make an effort to understand her shortcomings, just like I hope other people do for me.

(tried to publish my video of this, but I think it's too big a file.  Ideas?)

This is why I haven't posted anything intelligible in a while...

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The other day I was sitting in my hole of an "office" (what used to be a phone booth and is now a poorly-lit, poorly ventillated cupboard with four cubicles in it that I share with twenty other grad. students from the ballet and dance dept.'s) doing some homework, and I glanced at the clock: 12:15am.

I did some quick math in my head.  I had to be in class at 8am the next morning....so with traveling and showering and eating and stuff....that's roughly 4 hours of sleep.  Then the thought occured to me...

If I stay here for the night, I could get a whole 6 hours!

Again my brain spun.  I had food that could get me through breakfast the next morning, and clean dance clothes for class (as long as no-one noticed I was wearing the same street clothes as the day before), i had showered within the 24-hour margin, the futon in the lounge upstairs is almost as comfortable as my bed...yeah, i could do this!

Oh.  But then I remembered that the custodians come to clean at 5am.  Hmmmmm.

I weighed my need for sleep against my discomfort at being caught sleeping overnight at school, and eventually resorted to my usual method of making important decisions; I flipped a coin.  (well, actually it was a container of Altoids, but it worked.)  As is my habit, I assigned the "smart" decision to "heads".

10 min. later I was on my way home.

Pickles and Cinnamon Cake

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I'm sitting here eating my late-night-after-grad-school-and-work dinner of leftover soup, pickles, and cake.  Along with the frightening prospect of all the things I have still to do this week, running through my head is Prov. 3:5-6.  Sometimes, that's all you can do.

This weekend has been one of the most important of my life.  Along with being crazy busy (total hours of sleep over 5 days: 20, papers written: 2 midterms taken: 1, costumes made: 28, shows put on:1, hours spent studying: ummmm....), I've learned so much.  My brain has been swimming around all these thoughts, and everything that's happened, and even though I'd never be able to put it all into words, I have to express my utter feeling of awe at this moment.  I have been so blessed.

Though I think trusting in God is good, I think the most important thing I've learned this weekend is that he is trustworthy.  He really knows me.  He knows what I want from life and what I need to get through it.  The more I think about it, the more I see what a gift that is.  I want to always remember that.