October 9 - Day 22

I have lost count but I think we are going on day 5 of hurricane Moscow. I can’t remember the last time I was dry or warm or, thanks to my insane dance and movement teachers, not in total pain. And you can tell it is starting to get to people, everyone is getting cranky. It is kind of funny, in a ‘I am so deliriously tired, it has to be’ kind of way because it is obvious that everyone is really, really trying not to be bitchy but it is so damn hard. We are all so dead and the pretty faces are all beginning to melt. (Last night, I actually fell asleep, sitting completely upright on the edge of my chair at a modern dance adaptation of the Rite of Spring, which I was thoroughly enjoying. I woke up just in time to see the bows and catch the drool before it made its way down my chin.) I was really bad yesterday and cheated with the talking so I did my best to be good today, avoiding speech entirely. But after yet another meeting with 35 screaming 20 year-old theatre kids I had had enough. I truly like all of the students I work with but the concept of ensemble is new to most of them and everyday is like dealing with thirty divas who are determined to have their voices heard above the rest. Originally, I refrained from saying anything because I have no desire to be the theatre mom. Then, I didn’t say anything because I physically couldn’t. It was one of the most bizarre group interactions I have ever had. I think Jenna put it best when she said that because I couldn’t talk people really had to listen. You could hear a pin drop as they stood there bug-eyed with their chins on the floor, taking in my practically inaudible whisper. The only message I wanted to share was that everyone here is of value and every voice deserves to be heard. I wanted to hug them all and tell them to just ease up on each other. I am not sure why but my need to protect the mistreated here is intense and it killed me to watch everyday as the spirits of really amazing performers/human beings were being quashed. I remember so vividly that desperate feeling that these programs create in the young or insecure but god, after almost four years of living not as an artist but a product in a deeply messed up industry, I so wish I could impart to them the freedom I feel being here. And I know I can’t, it is not my place but oh how I wish someone somewhere had taken me aside and said, “Chill out. The drama and the stress and the worry are just not worth it -whatever will be, will be. All you have to do is trust yourself” And I am sure someone probably did but I was to busy freaking out to listen. In this case, Jenna just grabbed my arm as I walked out the door and said, “I am so glad you are here.” It about broke my heart. This place, this process, this silence is the most intense learning experience I have ever gone through and we are only on the third week.