Still not back on track but a little progress

Had first consultation with my thesis adviser after the proposal defense. Basically, we’re working out the kinks in my proposal revision. I have to remember that this is just the introduction and not talk about heavy points right away.

I don’t know why it is, but my thesis used to be my entire life. Or was I just using it as an emotional crutch because I had just then stopped dancing for that company I used to dance for? Now, it’s not my entire life anymore, just one of the things that I have to schedule.

I haven’t shown my adviser yet my paper that I delivered to China. I guess I don’t want her tsk-ing and saying, “But there’s a lot of holes here…” Sigh.

On the other end of the coin, my editor of the newspaper I used to write dance reviews for is urging me to write more reviews for her.

This is why I love blogging. In blogging, you don’t have to worry about the holes in your writing, or what your adviser/editor will say. Blogging is more relaxed. Blogging rules!

See more progress on: finish my masters thesis

i passed my defense

Not entirely happy with some people on my panel but I should be happy that I’m now on to the next step and the work involved looks like a lot of fun. I rewrite my introduction now. relaxing

See more progress on: finish my masters thesis

hey there, how ya doin'

I haven't blogged here lately, and since most of my friends have been blogging on their blogs, I got a bit inggit and here I am.

Today is a hectic day. Starting from late last night, when Lucas finally installed his software for editing videos into Lucy (Lucas' desktop PC) and we spent the next six hours editing the video that is required to accompany the paper I'm delivering in China next week. It's not perfect, but it will do. There's so much hassle that was involved in the making of this video, starting from requesting the clips from the CCP, but I don't want to worry about it anymore, so there. It's a bit long, I guess, especially the clips of my dad's choreographies. Lucas said, "Isn't it a bit too long?" I said, "Okay lang. Anong magagawa ng mga Intsik?" To which he said, "Nanunura ang mga Intsik no!" Haha. Apologies to all Beloved Intsiks in the audience.

Now I'm tweaking and fine tuning my paper so that it will be perfect and sync with the video, but when I tested it a short while ago, I was over by four minutes (it should be 30 only). I'll have to practice again, and figure out when to come in so that I don't pause for the videos too long.

I was a bit harassed also because Charlie Brown (the main family desktop) is being wishy-washy again, hanging all the time, etc. This sucks because the printer and scanner are connected to it. So I can't really print stuff out. Mom says to just print the paper out in China. I feel like I'm going to war without my chain mail and broadsword.

I'm bringing Linus (my laptop) and Dad's bringing Snoopy (his laptop). But it just doesn't feel the same as having the paper on paper, in hard copy, and having several copies for the other delegates. And I was so anal about the lay-out of my paper too.

I have to pack and I have to shower. So many concerns!

Generally though, I feel like my life is going exactly where it's supposed to. Despite the heat and the hassles and the near-migraine that's threatening me, I'm quite happy.

pre-proposal defense

I contacted the members of my proposal defense panel already. One of them emailed back and said she was “honored” to be on my panel (I think it’s her first time on a proposal defense panel, I’m not too sure). The other one I went to visit today and he stirred up a lot of things – my topic is too broad, doing all these histories is just a waste of time, am I looking at this artistically or sociologically (and he won’t accept that I’m trying to do both), what then is my definition of ballet to tie these three companies together, yadda yadda yadda.

I remember writing my undergrad thesis; he was my adviser. Before I was finished, he demanded I show him what I’ve done so far and he said it was all cluttered and pointless. I was so depressed that I nearly threw in the towel and my brother said I would be so cool if I just stuck him with an unfinished thesis and no degree (which was a big deal because I was supposed to be the 2nd to graduate from that degree and the second to write a Bachelor’s thesis for that course. And I am.) but my mother made me finish the darn thing, never mind if he flunks me, at least I had finished it. He ended up giving me a really good grade.

I tell this story to remind myself that he really just loves to give me a hard time and not to buckle under.

I went to my thesis adviser after discussing with him and she was optimistic about it, despite chiding me for confering with him already – that’s what the proposal defense is for. She acknowledges that he’s probably still in the old school formalist mode and to convince him that I can do the artistic and the sociological as my topic demands a multi-dimensional approach (gawd, I love my thesis adviser). She also agreed that we should collapse my histories so that it’s not too broad. It’s not the overhauling I thought I would have to do.

I should make a to-do item in 43 things entitled “stop freaking out when people criticize your thesis…” Yep, I’ll do that right away.

See more progress on: finish my masters thesis

first things first

My thesis adviser likes what I’ve done so far, but has advised me to concentrate first on defending the proposal. I’m in the process of fine-tuning it. It looks very promising, I can see a lot of the things I want more organized into their proper shelves, yay.

Tomorrow, I’m going to the CCP Library to check out a couple of things. I need to complete my definitions list, and wouldn’t you know it, I’m hard pressed to define BALLET on my own. Of all things. Haha.

Also, I have to look at repertoires of the three companies and decide if I’m going to focus on a particular period or whatever. Eep, I’m tamad.

But we’ll see how it goes.

See more progress on: finish my masters thesis

chapter one

I have a thesis adviser, she’s scheduling me in for consultation next week, probably on Tuesday. She’s one of the best advisers in school, and one of the most sought after, so naturally she’s also one of the busiest. So, next Tuesday it is.

That means I have time to rewrite my chapter one, which I have titled:

The Filipino as Dancer
From the Pre-colonial to American Periods

where I convince everyone that Dancing is second nature to the Filipino people from time immemorial and give a description on what the dancing was like in ancient times, then under Spanish colonial rule, then again how it changed when the country was sold to the US. This is an important build-up to Ballet’s introduction into the country, which is what my thesis is about. I just have to remember to keep this chapter short and sweet and not get into much detail, because it’s not the topic of my thesis.

Hopefully by Tuesday, it’s not only finished but it’s impressive and my adviser will be excited for my thesis proposal defense. Which we have yet to organize, hence my need to make this first chapter really good.

I must say, though, it does look promising. Eeee, I’m gonna pass out from the sheer thrill.

See more progress on: finish my masters thesis

but i like books...

I am having the time of my life writing my thesis. It’s the last thing I need to do to get my Master’s Degree and I like all this research and writing. If I ever do get my PhD, it would be for the same reason. I suppose you could say I’m doing this the hard way, but, if I may be honest, it’s not all that hard.

To whomever it was that left that anonymous comment on my blog: I’m very smart and talented enough to not want to buy my Diploma, but thanks for offering.

See more progress on: finish my masters thesis

the sleepyhouse is now a thesis journal

I've finally figured out what I want to do to the sleepyhouse (erm, this blog, hallu). It will be my official thesis journal so that I don't go too off course as I'm writing my thesis. I guess I could have used my LJ as a thesis journal, with the happy friends-locking abilities and all that, but I figured it will be too cluttered if I do that. I'm anal like that.

And I need a thesis journal. I do. If you saw the chaos in my head right now, you would agree with me. I hope you still stay to read, though I know it will probably bore the hell out of you. You could check out my LJ if you miss the silly me.

love,
Joelle

men and women - ballet philippines

*note: this is not an official review, these are impressions I want to return to when I come to the chapter in my MA thesis on Ballet Philippines. a real review would be more coherent and less stream-of-consciousness. thanks for reading.

Programme:
Stringed, Strung and Estranged by Enrico Labayen
to music by Shostakovich (eep, I think)

You could tell this was Rico's piece from the foot-hooking-itself-around-your-other-leg move. I'm watching this and feeling that BP has nothing to worry about, they were so strong, so stunning. But then, that's the point I guess I wanted to make when I left PBT, that we were a classical ballet company, not a modern company. Rico's piece proves my point in that everybody who danced this looked gorgeous. I knew that not everybody in PBT could measure up to the performance yesterday. There were only how many of us comfortable with Vivaldi? Not a lot.

I was thinking how easy it looked for them, when we were killing ourselves rehearsing Vivaldi - we were stressed and tired and worried that we looked like dorks. Well, I worried, I suppose I can't speak for other people, though some of us were crying every after rehearsal and some of us were very perturbed about the dance and some of us just plain disappeared whenever a Rico rehearsal was announced. I have no idea what the end product looked like, but I assume you could tell it was a lot of work. To the BP dancers, it was like they ate Rico choreographies for breakfast.

I have to stop myself then, because, of course if I compare PBT to BP in terms of Rico's choreography, then BP would look like the better company and PBT would look kulelat. But I remember seeing BP do a neo classical work (William Morgan's Ang Pilya) and I found their ballet technique very wanting. That's one of the things my thesis is about - you cannot compare the two and we need both companies to co-exist. Well, perhaps that should be said about BP and BM, because Ballet Manila is essentially the more classical company. I think I'll figure it out more when I'm doing deeper field work.

After Whom by Bam Damian
to music by this hungarian group I think. Will update again soon, I didn't bring the programme with me today.

My favorite piece of the evening. The girls were wearing white stretchy underwear barely covered with a sheer, white men's shirt. The boys were wearing white flowing skirts. The topic of the dance was a fight for domination, though the programme notes say that Bam was attempting to show off the energy of his dancers. Actually, as with the rest of the show, the struggle for gender domination is always a subject in Ballet Philippines dances - it's a staple in the repertoire. So even the idea of cross dressing, well, it's not anything all that new, I guess. I don't know, I just feel like they're hyping it up so that we feel that they're going to show us things we've never seen before. Am I really hoping they push the envelope further? I don't really know what I'm hoping for, but at the very least I can say I'm not all that impressed.

Still, this is my favorite piece, mainly because of the movement. If Bam says the piece is to display their energy, then he's successful there. It was very powerful and we're on the edge of our seats from watching. My favorite part was when the company was scattered throughout the stage and the girls were jumping and making sharp aggressive movements amid the swirling boys. That was quite beautiful, the meditative boys swirling around with their skirts flying around them - they looked exactly like whirling dervishes. Juxtaposed against the wild girls. Aah, it was breathtaking. It ended rather abruptly though, I hope Bam gets to fix it one day.

"L" by Bam Damian
to "L'Apres Midi D'un Faun" by Claude Debussy

A pas de deux after the original ballet by Vaslav Nijinsky. The guy is obviously fantasizing as he hardly touches the girl at all when she enters and after a lifetime of not touching, she touches him - see what I mean about fantasy? And they even take their pants (him) /skirt (her) off onstage and are about to consummate their meeting when the girl just walks away. So the guy picks up her skirt and wipes himself with it, giving a shudder when he brushes it against his crotch. This was interesting because it alludes to Nijinsky, who ends his ballet masturbating to a nymph's scarf.

Funny thing though, some of the younger dancers in the audience didn't get it. Nobody knows who Vaslav Nijinksy is? What is happening to the world today? Or am I a vanishing breed?

"Anecdotes of Hate" by Bam Damian
again, I don't know the music by

This is a particularly strong piece about JFK, Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks. My problem with this is it's kind of too far away from Philippine consciousness to really make an impact. If I didn't know what the dance was about, I'd think the form was very good and powerful, with innovative tools in his choreography such as inventive use of props and blocking. But I don't even know who the hell Rosa Parks is.

"Unbound" by Alden Lugnasin
to music from the soundtrack of The Matrix

I was always a fan of Alden's work, but I'm not too fond of this one. I guess because it was too long. And too weird. There are some really good moments but after a while, well, I guess you can only do so much with parasols onstage after all. And the boys' half-pants distracted the heck out of me.

Overall, very strong dancers, very promising artistic minds running the company. I'm thinking maybe having all-modern nights with all-new works for an entire season may just tap the creative resources a bit too much, but I'll make that conclusion after I watch the rest of what's in store.

next flight out

There's a survey somewhere about the Philippines being one of the top 10 peoples who love living in their country. Even if I wasn't asked on this survey, I agree that I do love living here. I know how to commute virtually anywhere, I know where to go, I know what to do, I know what to wear each day, I know what's good to eat and where I can look if I'm craving for something new.

I've never been the type of person to want to go somewhere else to live for the rest of my life. I have relatives who have been obsessed with the Great American Dream, and I couldn't relate at all. Only a couple of years ago, when faced with the prospect of living in the province, not out of the country, but certainly far from Manila, I would break out in hives. Yet I've been recently considering living in Europe for the rest of my life.

I wasn't right away taken with the idea, not very. Until now, I keep thinking, "What the hell am I going to do there?" Recently though, I've found a promising study program at Roehampton, in the UK and I was decidedly excited over the very idea of it - for the first time since I started considering I wanted to live in Europe.

It's a Master's in Philosophy in Dance Studies, with the kind of curriculum I want and everything I want to study. It'll probably be three years to take it, but whoa, what a cool three years that will be. It'll also cost the earth and I have no idea where to get a scholarship that doesn't require you to return home and spread the love after you graduate.

Still, I have reservations and all that. What if I'll hate it? I have to remember to counter that with "What if I won't?" It's all a matter of perspective.

I'm keeping my chin up.

and i thought it would be hard

He said, “I’ll be seeing you for the next three days.” I thought I would have to wait till Tuesday. It’s so nice to be wrong, sometimes.

See more progress on: spend more time with my lovey

the daydreamer and her mom

I nicked this from my ballet memoirs. Enjoy

Imagine me as a little girl. If you're seeing this tiny, muscular little ball of fluff, think again. Take that image of me and stretch my legs and arms out so that I kinda resemble a daddy longlegs (which is what I've been called from time to time). Give me boy hair and big eyes. Yep, that's more like it.

When I was a child, I actually had extremely long legs and arms and torso and I was super thin, no matter what I ate. I could eat an entire six-pack of those Hershey white chocolate bars (I've forgotten what they're called; they don't make them now but I think I must have been keeping them in business for quite a while) in one sitting and not gain weight.

Even if my lankiness was akin to gangliness, my mom always said that I would grow up to be either a supermodel or a ballerina. A supermodel, because, well, she was one. That's how my parents met. Dad had stopped dancing and was this highly sought-after fashion show director while mom was a model.

So I was taking ballet class because I so looked the part. Even if I was the most horrible kid in ballet class, even when my mom was finally fed up with me, my Dad would see me through to the end. Yes, I was taking ballet class with my dad in our school because I was going to grow up to be a ballerina and I was going to be one of the best. And I rebelled.

Oh, I don't know why I rebel; looking back, I have to admit that I just rebel just because. They say so and I do the opposite. My mom would find me scratching my legs hard enough to prick the skin and create wounds and she would holler, "How are you going to win Miss Universe if you scratch your legs up like that?" And I would holler back, "Well, I don't want to be Miss Universe anyway!" Just so that I can be left scratching in peace.

So I was not a child prodigy. I was not spectacular, or anywhere near great even. I would have a few great days, I remember, and that would surprise everyone. My thoroughly great days are recital days; Mom says I was always so "Wow!" during performances onstage. I vividly remember my first recital in Meralco Theatre. Cinderella was my favorite movie and my favorite ballet that year and my Dad staged a short version of Cinderella for me - I was cast as one of Cinderella's friend birds but I was so involved in the entire thing: I watched all rehearsals as if I were running the rehearsals and thoroughly enjoyed every minute just watching the dance being created. My dad had put together a small junior company of sorts by then, and they danced most of Cinderella while there was a divertissement "dream sequence" for us little girls to the music from the Disney cartoon ("Cinderelly Cinderelly!"). That was a lot of fun even if I FORGOT my bird headdress at home on the day of the recital.

But in class, I was always daydreaming. I daydreamed I was somewhere else, daydreamed I would create fantastic houseboats or airplanes or space stations where I could live far away from the tedium of school and merciless school bullies, the tedium of ballet class, and the tedium of the real world in general.

I daydreamed so much that I almost missed my childhood. Or maybe I actually would have, if I didn't have ballet to prove that my childhood existed.

My dad would get so mad at me when I was caught daydreaming. And it wasn't the normal, I get caught, I get punished and that's over with. No, my dad would sit me down and we would discuss why I would rather daydream than pay attention in ballet class. And no answer made him happy. It lasted hours. To avoid these long discussions, I was forced to pay attention in class. So I ended up learning a thing or two. But I wasn't great. I was okay. And I only did what I did to get my dad off my back.

Sometimes, though, I have to admit, I would daydream that I was more than great. I dreamed I was a prima ballerina and audiences were giving me a million curtain calls. As I've mentioned, I was always great during performances. I loved shows. I hated ballet class, but I loved the shows. I also loved watching the shows. I would dream that my life was made up of dancing in theatres with all the lights on and the audience applauding every night. And whenever it was pointed out to me that I needed ballet class in order to do that, I would lose interest in ballet again. Imagine wanting to be a butterfly without going through the icky caterpillar-chrysalis thingie first.

My mom, who could have lived her life as a professional model or concert pianist or secretary or whatever, had gotten married at the age of 20 because she had gotten herself pregnant with little old me. She is a lot of things, but first and foremost, to this very day in an endearingly irritating way, she is a mother, and more distinctly, she is our mom. She rejoices with every little thing my siblings and I do and despairs over our little (or huge) tragedies. She dreamed her dream for me, not because it was a dream she couldn't fulfill for herself but because she knew me more than anybody else in the world and knew what I did not - that her dream for me was really my dream also.

Mom said that when I was little, even after I had started taking ballet class and had become monumentally bored with it, I would sit at the edge of my seat whenever any dancing was being shown. Whether we were at home in front of the TV, in the studio watching rehearsals, or in a theatre watching a show, I was always sitting at the edge of my seat, my eyes as huge as saucers and my smile plastered on my face like a mask. And then, for hours after, I would be dancing and dancing and dancing by myself, whirling around and around like a music box someone forgot to close shut.

My mom is never one to sneer at me and say "I told you so," and she didn't do that when I decided I wanted to dance after high school and even several years later when I quit my corporate job to dance full-time (actually, she was appalled when I did that). But there are times when she'd pinch my legs and say, "And you were so difficult growing up! Rebelde kasi! Rebelde!!!" Which I appreciate more than if she had said, "I told you so!"

This entry is dedicated to my mom. I love her.

i hope this doesn't sound snarky...

Ever since I met Neil Gaiman, I was trying to imagine what it would be like to meet the other people in my life that greatly affected me and who I am, who I had become. I know that I would rather die than look like a dork in front of Angel Corella, so I don't think I'll ever muster up enough courage to even be in his presence, though I guess just watching him dance would be phenomenal; same with Alessandra Ferri and Martine van Hamel. I would probably hug John Irving and say, "I love all your bears and Sorrow too!!!" I would probably burst into tears while TALKING to Dr Seuss or Galina Ulanova or Charles Schulz or Gabriel Garcia Marquez or frigging Natalia Makarova, and not ten minutes after.

So I'm glad I don't ever get to meet them as it would just be too much for my peace of mind.

But being so close to your idols can be good for you too.

I remember when we met Anna Villadolid for the first time. She did Juliet when she was here with the Bavarian National Ballet and I was crying my eyes out from the Balcony Scene to the end of the ballet. When she danced in Don Quixote with Ballet Philippines, I wasn't very impressed but Lucas and I went backstage to get her autograph anyway. It was funny because we don't do that sort of thing, but Lucas was very, "We can meet Anna Villadolid!" So we went and knocked on her dressing room, amid the many fans. I stayed in the shadows and pushed Lucas to do all the work. Even though you could tell she was tired, there was this aura about her that was so radiant, that made you think, wow, I'm in the presence of a star! She smiled politely at Lucas, tall handsome tisoy boy that he is, and asked to whom she should address the autograph. "To Lucas," my brother replied. And she looked up at him in recognition and said, "You're Lucas?" She smiled a bigger smile and said, "I want to see you dance someday."

We walked away from that dressing room in silence. It was only ten minutes later when we looked at each other and flipped our lids like giggly schoolgirls.

My bigger local ballet hero (or heroine, then) would be Noreen Ostrea. Unlike the elusive Anna Villadolid, Noreen danced for PBT and was there when I started dancing for PBT many years ago. I saw her dance Juliet also and was so captivated - I wanted to grow up to be just like her. When I got to know her, there were many things about her that I wanted to be: she had been fat like me and was able to lose a lot of weight, which was inspiring to me then; she was also this feisty girl who had her own mind and was super cool to be around. Although she talks to me like she would an equal, I will always feel like a tiny fangirl, giddy that she so much as looked at me, giddier when she tells me I should hike my leg up some more or eat more potassium. It was this kind of motivation that helped me along at that time and I will forever be grateful for it.

Almost ten years later, I'm a demi-soloist with the PBT and in another Romeo and Juliet, which is actually my first Romeo and Juliet. I was one of Juliet's virginal friends. To boost the cast, the company hired several students from different ballet schools to act as townspeople and guests at the Capulet Ball, etc. Most of them were teenagers and three of them were giddy around me. One kid said to me, "My classmate wants to be you when she grows up." It was sometimes unnerving to be beamed at during ballet class, to look over at their shining, smiling faces that would fold up with a start when they discovered they were caught.

I was a demi-soloist who was playing one of Juliet's six friends. I didn't make a name for the country by being a prima ballerina in a few European countries, nor did I write a comic book of epic proportions where the characters in the book are so famous that even people who haven't read Sandman yet know who they are. But I have inspired a couple of teenagers, I have reduced them to giddiness. It's always a nice feeling.

My friend Waya has been talking about inspiration, especially since the Gaiman experience. She urges us to make our dreams come true, and to help each other make our dreams come true. I don't know what dream I have anymore - it used to be dancing Juliet. I thought long and hard about it and decided that while there are other things I want to do with my life, dancing Juliet remains The Dream.

I'm busy now with a million things because this is how my life is - to be in constant motion, to keep working at making myself happy. To me, I guess it's not really fulfilling a dream, it's more making my life the dream that I'm fulfilling. What happens when I've danced Juliet? I go look for the next dream? That's it exactly.

I don't know what dream I want to fulfill, perhaps because I've been trying to live out my dreams ever since I knew how to. I'm glad Neil Gaiman came here and inspired a lot of people - it would take something so drastic I suppose. The most I got out of this experience is the nice realization that he's a normal guy - a nicer guy than the normal, but he's not a superhero or a god. He could be you or me or somebody we happen to cross paths with on the street. But he is capable of great things.

I am just reminded that I am capable of great things too. And go back to the great dream that is my life.

prolific little me

I couldn't blog here last week, so I'm obviously not prolific here. But I have news. I am writing my memoirs.

(Or is it I'm writing my memoir? Was this ever taught to me and I was daydreaming or was this something people just assumed I would get through context? Bleah.)

Anyway, I've been structuring my thesis the last few weeks and that's been coming along well because I have good ideas already for the next two chapters, I just need more sources to back up the stuff I have already. Right now, I'm doing histories: first chapter after the intro will be a background of Philippine Dance before and when the Spaniards came in and made themselves at home. My point here is Filipinos have in their nature a passion for dance and we did so before any influence from the outside world, and later how their love of dance evolved under the new government. From there, in the next chapter, I will discuss the history of ballet, because it more or less evolved during the same time. Also, the next course of Philippine history would be the American period and that's how Ballet came to our country, so before I go into that, I will talk about the history of ballet all the way to how it came to the Americans and how it developed in their country. There are a lot of interesting things there that are useful to me.

So since I'm writing a lot of histories, I keep looking at my own history of dance. I realize that I want to write it. I've been a long time thinking I didn't dance as much or as well as I could have and that made me really unhappy the last few years that I've been dancing. Now that I'm starting to write my memoirs, I realize more and more that it is not the case. And I'm understanding myself, my love for ballet, my relationship with my father, a lot better.

I don't know if I'll ever publish when I'm done, but I do plan to finish writing it. Whenever that is. I don't want to think that my dancing days are over, but this period in my life (since starting work on my memoirs, I've been thinking a lot about the periods in my life), not dancing full time and writing my thesis, seems like the best time to write the story of my life. Well, my dancing life, at least.

I may post some excerpts here if I feel like it. Most of it will be on LJ, under lock and key. Lucky you with an LJ account.

research going well

I need to get a few more books to back up the research I’m currently doing so far, but it’s actually going quite well. I’ve been worried about not finishing on time – I have till May 2006 – but it doesn’t look as bad as I originally thought. With the research I’ve already done, I can actually start writing the drafts for my next two chapters (chapter one being my introduction/thesis proposal, which has yet to be approved) and then just add from there.

I don’t know yet if my request for adviser is approved. I’ll probably find out tomorrow, when I go to school to apply for an ID. I don’t really use my University of the Philippines ID in the University of the Philippines – I use it to encash checks, hehe; all I do is show the bank the form that says I’m currently enrolled and they accept it. But since the ID is expired – and they have long since issued a new version – I have to go get a new one. Which I shall do tomorrow.

Aaaah, so many plans. Yay.

---

See more progress on: finish my masters thesis

from 43 Things.com

thirty-one

All the things I had been doing the last post were put to a complete stop (except for reading The Abarat) as I was struck down by a bad flu. So I spent my last days as a thirty year old in bed. This is perhaps the longest and most lucid I've been awake in the last two days and I'm biting my nails and waiting... for what? I don't know. For the rest of my life? Of course.

But if I knew that already, why am I biting my nails after the longest time that I've gotten over biting them?

I had a thought while in bed hours ago: I got a birthday wish. It wasn't a wish I made last year or even two years ago, I have to say it was a wish I made more than five years ago. I distinctly remember Kitch asking me, "What do you wish for?" and I said, "I want true love to find me." And I remember her smile and her breaking into the Indigo Girls song, "Love Will Come To You." That was a very long time ago.

While I've been involved in a few relationships, pseudo- and otherwise, since then, I realize that only today, only in bed with my runny nose and feeble muscle movement, does this thought come to me, that love has indeed come to me and I had gotten my birthday wish and I should be grateful.

I am grateful. Thank you.

I am also grateful for a lot of other things. For the fantastic past year of beautiful dancing. For my gorgeous friends and their love. For my family and their love, even if one of them shows his in a much gruffier way than I liked. For being taken care of in this universe.

I tried to teach ballet class today, but I discovered I was too weak to do so and sat out the class while Jacqui taught. One of the kids, a precocious child named Chloe, kept sidling up to me every chance she got. Chloe, because she is so talkative, gets my goat a lot of times - my mom always chides me that I should never make patol little children. I can't help it sometimes, though I agree with her, but tell me, how do you try to convince a kid that the Nutcracker is not Barbie, that it's a ballet? Sorry, just a frustration.

Anyway, Chloe was always telling me stuff like, "Teacher, are you in a mood again today?" when I tell her, "Chloe, stop talking." If you gave me a hundred bucks for every time I say that ("Chloe, stop talking!") in class, I'd be a rich woman by now.

So Chloe sidles up to me and successfully has time to tell me something. She says, "Still feeling sick, Teacher?" I try to smile and nod. She nods back and says, "You'll be okay, Teacher. You'll see."

I am grateful. Now I should pay it all back by trying more to become a better person, the kind of person who deserves all this love.

Happy birthday to me. ,)

my body is schizo

I discovered today that my body works differently when it takes ballet class than it does when it performs or even rehearses. Rico Labayen taught company class today and I was a bit out of sorts with that experience. There's a lot of breathing and emotional expressiveness in his classes that I normally don't do when I take class because for me class is the basics - fixing my placement, working on technique. That sort of stuff. I don't emote in class. Well, I emote a little, but not the amount that Rico requires. Also he wants us to dance, meanwhile, I'm working on my technique. Tsk tsk, little robot.

Then, I rehearse a piece or I perform it onstage and then, I dance. Figured this out because we learned a little of his choreography after class and everything was 100% better.

Anyway, I was just really amused by that little discovery. And I'm itching to do triple pirouettes and grand jetes again.

--

Note to new readers:

From this point backward, this blog mainly functioned as a personal blog, so the archives are mainly personal thoughts. Some entries however are still about dance, because I was dancing full time back then, so if you think those might be interesting, feel free to keep reading the archives. This is just to explain the change in tone. Thanks for reading!

Cheers,
Joelle
August 31, 2009

au contraire, mon frere

Lucas saw The Pacifier yesterday and enjoyed himself. He says, magaling daw si Vin Diesel. I reply, magaling talaga yon, I cried when he died in Saving Private Ryan. And ooops, Lucas hasn't seen Saving Private Ryan yet, because he hates watching war movies (I swear, mein bruder ist viel gay) and I assured him to go see Saving Private Ryan just to see Vin Diesel die because he dies within the first hour of the movie and (except for the horribly vivid D-Day opening sequence) there's not much war going on there yet.

And I'm glad he's just watching the movie for Vin Diesel because wouldn't he be pissed if he was really planning to see the movie in its entirety and I already told him that not only does Vin Diesel die, he's the first one to do so? Ooops... have you not seen Saving Private Ryan yet and were planning to? :|

i wish i had brilliance today

So that I can write an interesting blog entry. When I think of interesting blog entries, I'm miles away from a pc and when I'm in front of one and connected to the internet, nada.

So I'll focus on how I feel at the moment. I'm hungry. Someone says he's only finishing up. My ass. I hope he hurries, I haven't eaten since lunch. Well, I did eat a few slices of cheese this afternoon while learning Kundiman from video, but those don't count.

My legs are tired. Because I taught modern class this morning and took class with Anatoli at 1pm and learned the Muslim dance from Thatness, Thereness even if I didn't have to. Well, we thought I had to but mid-rehearsal, Anatoli announces that we're only dancing Vinta at the International Dance Day in Koronadal at the end of the month. So I don't have to learn Muslim, yay. Then, I watched Kundiman from video and taught the first part to the girls available and the pas de quatre to myself, Kit, Nino and Alvin. The pas de quatre is actually two love pas de deuxs to "Hindi Kita Malimot" and it is so damn easy. My part is only a lot of running around and reaching for Alvin. Well, I think I overdid my fan kicks because now my left inner thigh is sore. It wasn't sore before today.

I do love partnering Alvin. We've been running Tzigane together the past week because Kit and Nino are performing it on Saturday, but we rejects have decided to keep fighting the good fight. He's so super strong, and I can't finish this sentence because someone is finally finished and is doing things to me, distracting, confounding, dizzying things...

I gotta go. We can eat now. Yay!!!

happier news

My parents, sister and I went to Southmall to buy my sister a phone. She decided she wanted a phone after all, just not the one she gave me that mom gave her when her 3310 disappeared mysteriously (she lost her phone long before I did, and she's been anti-phone ever since). I think she decided to buy a phone because she thinks the new Nokia 7200 looks, as the tv ad says, "ah, it's luhv-leh." So we went to hunt it down but couldn't find it, probably because there's a newer model, the 7220, and they're trying to sell that instead.

I'm thinking, whoa, all this hullabaloo for a phone? And then I patted myself on the back for how much I've matured.

I'm really trying to keep a close watch on where my money goes since I plan to stop freelancing. In fact, I will no longer accept writing assignments from today on (I finally got to submit that article that put me in hell, sigh). Today though, I bought a book on Dance as a Ritual (it looks like somebody's thesis got published, cool...) worth P248 and I had to tell myself after to stop going to Books for Less to check out Dance books.

But besides all that, I'm pretty good. This week, I felt more in shape than ever, and I'm dancing a lot better than the weeks before vacation. I have my turns back, and my form is really nice. I'm also able to hold any aches and pains at bay thanks to conditioning with the theraband (though I have to remember to do those exercises, hay). It's good then that if I were to quit everything for the dance, at least the dance loves me back.

And I started teaching workshop classes at our (family) studio last week. Besides the children's ballet classes that I teach on the weekends, I have two compound classes: Modern and Improv/Creative Movement on Wednesdays and Character and Acting class on Fridays. I'm really getting into it - planning the syllabus and the class, picking out music (thank you liebie!!!), actual teaching. If the plans for my new job in June fall through, I do believe I'm going to apply to lecture elsewhere, something I've been trying to get out of for the longest time. I think I'd rather teach dance studies or similar courses than writing articles about, well, other stuff.

And, to round out the full dance experience, I'm choreographing a piece for the PBT school workshop at the end of summer. There's four of us doing a piece each, set on the company members, not on the students. I started trying out a few steps on Mitzi and Erica and it looks promising. I hope.

I've never been this much immersed in dance - dancing, writing, teaching, choreographing - since college. It's strange. But a welcome strange.

When I left Dance for an entirely different life, I didn't think I was ever going to return and was content in my corporate job and my rock n' roll lifestyle. Now, I feel like the universe had actively taken this prodigal child and plunked me where I really belong.

(Hey, maybe I can go to Germany on a choreography program or something? Though, out of all the things I do well with regards to Dance, choreography would be my weakest point. Eeee, what am I planning, stop planning, stop it, stop it, stop it!!!)

blocked again

I have writer's block again. And therefore, I have blogger's block, since the frickin' writer's block is in the way. Anyway, even if I haven't added even a single word to that frickin' writer, I'm gonna blog. I don't care if I have nothing to submit to my editor.

Which is a good segue to what I want to blog about: my freelance work. Meaning to say, I don't want to pimp my pen anymore. I've long, long ago decided to not pimp my body (hehehe, I mean I decided I'm never going to dance anything that's not ballet for money, or create dances for ballet students' intermission numbers or direct whatever corporate eklavu) and I've properly stayed away from that, thank God. Now, I'm so turned off from pimping my pen that I'm thisclose to minimalist living (no more dinners out, no more new shoes, no more Time Out Chocettes). I'm glad I still have parents who ask me, "Do you need money?" I may start to say yes, one of these days.

Mikah and I were talking about this new aversion of mine, and asking about my aversion to racketeering in general. This is something I'm not used to, but I'm slowly enjoying - he is often asking me why I do things, why I don't do things, why I feel the way I do about certain things, and these things I usually take for granted as just things I do just because, well, I'm starting to figure them out because Mikah is looking at me and waiting for an answer.

So, I've figured out why I don't like freelance work, or any kind of racket. It takes time away from the things I do want to do and that I'm interested in. And currently, there are a LOT of things I want to do. Well, not a lot, but I have a full schedule. Never mind that these things don't make money. I've spread myself too thin a lot, to know that this is no way to live. Who needs Time Out Chocettes anyway?

I'm not poor yet; I'm looking at the future. My harassment-free future. I think God is trying to tell me, "Hey, you quit your job, and all the money that goes with, to dance. If you're gonna do something for money, it's not gonna ever be easy ever again." He's right, it's not easy. Can't blame me for wishing so.

I have to attempt to write that darn article now. I have no data. I called a dozen places today and if their numbers were not yet in service, they weren't helpful or cooperative. All the while, I wish I were revising my thesis (which is due tomorrow, aaargh). Or blogging. Or answering one of Mikah's "But why?" questions. But here I go. *brave face*

i know what you did last holy week

Or rather I know what I did. And you shall too.

Holy Thursday, Day One.

• We set out at 4:30 in the morning because my Dad believes in leaving margins for error. Meaning, in case we get lost... you get the picture. We didn't get lost. We did get landsick. I never get landsick, that is, dizzy in car rides, but with Edoy the Reckless the Driver at the wheel, well, there's a first time for everything. We actually didn't need an extra driver because Lucas could have driven, but Dad decided to ask Edoy to drive us because he's my Dad's mechanic and it would be good for him to be around in case either of the cars breaks down mid-mountain. See what I mean about leaving margins for error? I thankfully was able to sleep halfway through, which is weird because I hardly ever sleep during car rides. I only do so when I'm very tired or lack sleep. Thank God Mikah came over last night, bearing Spirited Away on DVD.
• The drive took only about four hours. I remember it used to take six or so, but then that was 12 years ago when the roads weren't paved. They are now. I also remember being sick in the car because Daddy would play Pink Floyd and Ozzy super loudly. Ironic, don't you think? We took the roro to cross the ocean to Polillo, which took three hours, according to Jacqui, "the longest three hours of my life." But we didn't get seasick, so it's no biggie.
• Reaching Polillo though, well, let's just say that the end justifies the means. We got there at lunch and headed out to the beach after our meal. It is GORGEOUS. The sand is so fine (not quite white, but, well, sandy) and the water so clear that you can see your feet when you're swimming. This photo will probably say it all.

Damn, I'm the color of labanos.

• The only bad thing was I became embarassingly aware that my bikini bottom is too big for me. I lost that much weight, I guess. Jacqui panalo hirit of the day: "Joe, passe na yung tanga." Bastos!

Good Friday, Day Two.

• March 25 is my Dad's birthday. Happy birthday, Daddy!
• Guess what. It rained on and off all morning, foiling my Dad's plan of staying at the beach all day and foiling my plan to be a different color by Saturday. I'm guessing the Lord does want us to remember what happened to His Son so that sins may be forgiven. We instead spent the morning becoming better acquainted with our relatives (we couldn't do anything else because the electricity on the entire island operates only from 2 in the afternoon to 6 in the morning. Which is a welcome change from when there was no electricity at all. Ah, those were the days).
• We stayed at the house of my Dad's cousin instead of the hotel, which was fully booked because this year was the scheduled alumni homecoming of Mount Carmel High School. I remember clearly the house we stayed at, even if it didn't used to be the house they lived in the last time I was there. It was the house of another relative who died; they had moved into it sometime ago. I have cousins who are now so grown up it's shocking and disorienting (I have nephews!!!!), although after a while you discover they're the same people we used to hang out at the beach with some time ago, who used to say in their accented speech that we can't swim today or else we'll turn into stone. The biggest difference is they now drink. This seems to be the pastime of the island: they work all day and drink their heads off at night. I'm thinking, that used to be understandable when there didn't used to be electricity, though my mom surmises that it had become a habit. Ah, to live in a land where lambanog is 10 bucks a bottle.
• We went to the beach after lunch, when the sky cleared a bit. The wind was cold so I didn't swim, just waded around a bit, collected tiny seashells and helped Lucas build a sandcastle. It's actually more an Egyptian city. I liked this day at the beach as much as I did yesterday, so it was all good.
• Strange thing, I realized today. I have no desire to use the bathroom for number 2. At all. And in Manila, I never skipped a day. I guess when your body becomes traumatized from holes in the floor, it never forgets. Though, to be fair, they have actual toilets now. A lot can happen in 12 years. Still didn't make me want to go, though.
• Of my Manileno second cousins, one of them is now a resident of Polillo, with a wife and kid and thriving living entering cockfights. When we were younger, his brother kind of had a crush on me. Half drunk (they all drink, even the women), he whips out his phone, dials a number and says to me, "Joelle, kausapin mo o." It's his brother. Guess you saw that coming. He is on his way to Polillo tomorrow. I leave tomorrow. I'm thinking how cool that is.
• Back at the house, with everyone sort-of-drunk-but-not, my cousin Roy puts in the DVD of The Passion of the Christ and we're all gathered around watching. I never watched it before because I heard about how painful it was to watch. Now that I've seen it, I'm thinking it wasn't all that painful. I guess I think that because I've more or less believed in all the pain and passion He had gone through to save us from the fires of hell. And I've always been grateful.
• I was also distracted by the fact that the guy who played John looks like a certain guitarist with blue eyes. Omygod, what color.
• Panalo hirit from Roy, while watching Jesus fall for the second time, with the cross toppling on top of him: "Eh talaga yang mabigat, iya'y dalawang troso."

Black Saturday, Day Three.

• We go home, catching the 6am ferry. It's the ferry this time, not the roro and is only supposed to take 2 hours instead of 3. But boy are the waves fierce. We used to always sit outside the cabins and now I remember why. I threw up out the ferry door in the middle of the ocean and my Dad immediately displaced us to sit at the deck of the ferry. Jacqui said to me, "Sumuka ka? Cool."
• More dizziness in the car, with Edoy the Reckless Driver. I swear, he's so fired. Ha, as if I had the power to. Anyway, Infanta (where the port to Polillo is, the same Infanta that was in the news for massive landslides and troso and dead bodies that littered the ocean and beaches) is dismal, which got me more depressed and sick. I was feeling bad also that there are more bald spots on the mountains than I remember. When I was younger, Mommy used to pull out plants from the sides of the mountains to take home and I used to think she was gonna pluck the mountain bald one day. Illegal loggers beat her to it! It was a high point when we stopped at a plant shop on a mountain road and Mommy bought a fern.
• At Pagsanjan, we stopped at Ernest Santiago's restaurant for lunch. He's this good friend of my parents from the 70s and the rents' disco days; he used to own a notorious club called Coco Banana. Since then, he retreated to Pagsanjan and has made it his business to beautify Pagsanjan and the neighboring provinces. I love him. I hardly meet people as cool as he. His restaurant is also a gallery - if you like the furniture you're using while having lunch, you can buy them. And he has such beautiful furniture. Actually, everything is beautiful. We looked at his garden (his restaurant is outside his home), and it's like a small paradise in his backyard. It kind of reminds me of the Gallardo household, but on a bigger scale. Then, when we finish lunch, he whisks us over to Lucban to look at his current project - a Lost Horizon type garden restaurant overlooking the most majestic lake I've ever seen live. The garden is something else - more grand and gorgeous than the garden behind his house. I can't describe it adequately in a short paragraph, you just have to take my word for it. I'll take you there some time.
• After all that gorgeous sightseeing, I go back to being dizzy and dismal as we continue our journey home. It actually got worse. Reckless Driver Edoy has taken over the CD player and has put on Scorpions. Oh. My. God. I realize though, that maybe it wasn't really Ozzy and Pink Floyd that got on my nerves all those years ago, it was being in a car for a very long time. Cabin fever. I think I may have killed Edoy during the chorus of one of the lesser known (read: more irritating) songs if I wasn't getting text messages about being missed. All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
• (In fairview, Edoy's okay. He's just better at fixing cars than he is at driving them).
• Home sweet home!!!! I hit my laptop as soon as I had the chance and tried to start my thesis proposal, the one that had been, all this time, unstartable. After wrestling with it considerably, I was asked out and I happily spent the night meeting "the friends" and learning how to play Tekken. It is so romantic when your boyfriend lets you win.

Easter Sunday, Day Four.

• I spent this entire day slaving over my thesis proposal. It turned out great (according to my Research Prof, during our class' marathon 6-hour final meeting the next day at her house) and I can start requesting for a thesis adviser from the Department. I'm excited. And happy.

making myself scarce... and golden brown...

My family and I are going to Polillo Island, my father's birthplace, for a few days. There is no internet there, well I assume there isn't because the last time I was there (maybe 12 years ago, or so) there was hardly any electricity. But it's a fun roadtrip and an adventure, plus some of the most undiscovered (read: gorgeous) beaches in the country. I'm leaving my laptop behind, even if there might be electricity in most houses now, and hello we're staying at a hotel. But I've stumbled into a kind of writer's block and I figure the opening paragraphs of my thesis will come to me somehow, no sense in forcing it by sitting unproductively in front of my laptop. For the rest of this week, I will read actual books (I plan to finish Beauty this week), write in my offline journal, talk lengthily to my family, swim and soak in the sun.

I'll dig you guys another day. Happy Easter!

hormonal thoughts

Recent talks of how insecurity can make you do evil things (we were talking about other people, being evil to us) has gotten me wondering if I do evil things as well. I don't like that I'm insecure - I try to curb it, but it manifests itself anyway.

I feel I need to explain. You know how you can chalk up somebody's evil actions to their insecurity? Take a person, the most irritating person you know. More often than not, s/he is irritating, spiteful, loud, abrasive, protruding, mean, et cetera, because s/he is insecure about her/himself.

So anyway, I know that I am insecure. I know I don't really have anything to be insecure about, but I still get that way sometimes. Force of habit, I guess. And a very high standard that I set for myself. Am I, or do other people find me irritating, spiteful, loud, abrasive, protruding, mean, in any combination of two or three or all of the above?

I hope not. I worry too much about my self-worth, already.

i haven't watched a ballet video in ages

I'm watching our school's recital from two Decembers ago - Swan Lake, with me dancing as the Black Swan. I made a point to watch it because there's a bunch of pictures of that show in our studio and I was looking at it and thinking, how nice. So as soon as I had time I sat down to watch the video.

Of course, I have thoughts from watching it. First, me as Black Swan.

It was okay. It could use more work, more rehearsals, more centering. I definetely needed more time working on my technique. I figure, I'd probably do a better Black Swan today, given a year of daily ballet class and constant improvement, more weight loss, and hopefully more time for rehearsals. Rehearsals are super important. Rehearsals are humbling.

I'm thinking I'm a better dancer than I've ever been. Which is good. My biggest worry, as usual, is age catching up with me, will I be able to dance my best for at least a while yet? Knees and ankles, cooperate!

The company I'm dancing for is presenting Swan Lake in July. Already, Anatoli is making his own tentative casting. He does that a lot - before the ballet is mounted, he casts the ballet on his own and tells the dancers he wants you to dance this part, etc. And then Tito G comes around and makes the final casting and it's not always what Anatoli had in mind. You can imagine the disappointment this usually inspires but Anatoli goes on and casts his own anyway. So, even if he keeps promising me that I'm going to do this part or that part (not Odile or Odette, of course), I'm not holding my breath.

Watching my production of Swan Lake, even if there are hardly any sets and it's mostly done by kids, it's a pretty good staging. It's exciting and pretty and interesting and it tells the story and it's full of happy people dancing. I want ballet, and all the dancing I do from now on, to be exactly like that.

-------

I haven't been blogging lately. Things have been happening, but not stuff I feel should be blogged about. I guess I was getting ready for the long vacation. Will blog more interesting stuff soon.

spinning out

thesis journal entry # 15

I'm holding all fiction for this non-fic that I'm reading. It's called Private View: Inside Baryshnikov's American Ballet Theatre. It chronicles an entire year in the life and times of ABT as it was headed by Baryshnikov during it's 1986 - 1987 season. It's soooo engrossing, I'm literally stopping and starting while writing this blog entry because I get lost reading the book when all I'm doing is looking for quotes to post here.

It's not exactly what my thesis is going to look like when it's done - it's juicier than my thesis because I plan to be very bland and just-the-facts-ma'm with my thesis. This book, written by John Fraser, is like a movie, discussing the complexities of a ballet company, jealousies and rivalries and conspiracies and blisters and all. I'm being very inspired by a lot of things in the book, I'm able to relate to a lot of the stuff that's in it.

Some of the stuff in it is riveting, particularly the inside stories about the dancers. It's interesting to read how Susan Jaffe was being built up to be the quintessential Baryshnikov ballerina at that time, only to succumb to injuries and was forced to put off stardom for an entire season. I have a recent video of her performance in an ABT gala, with her looking really old and about to retire - in fact, she retired the season after that particular taped performance. Well, she didn't look that old, but set against Paloma Herrera, ABT's new "star," well, you know what I mean. Anyway, I would have loved to see what she looked like in her prime.

Another interesting thing to read about would be the grief that Martine van Hamel was getting from all her artistic directors at ABT, including Baryshnikov. He was harping about her age (she was 41 in the 1986-87 season) and she was pissed off and asking, What the hell does my age have to do with anything? I've seen Martine van Hamel do Raymonda (the best Raymonda ever) and Myrtha from Giselle and I am such a big fan. By the time this book is written, she's now fighting for parts that Baryshnikov would rather give the new ballerinas, the new stars he wants to push, like, say, Susan Jaffe. When she gets injured all of a sudden, guess who easily slipped into the roles reserved for Susan with the greatest of ease? I love how she gets vindicated in the end, like the universe smiling on her in the best way.

And finally, my quote. I love this, it made me feel so much better about my dancing, well, at least it made me feel less of a freak:

"You get obsessed by dancing. There seems to be no choice. Sometimes, you are miserable, sometimes, you are floating in elation. But you can't leave it alone until the passion is spun out. If you are very lucky, you try not to hate it when you leave."

- Lisa Rinehart, dancer for ABT and Netherlands Dance Theater

a few realizations and major denial

I realized something yesterday, at first while listening to some changes my Research prof suggested I make to my research proposal, and again while being corrected for Tzigane - I've gotten much better at accepting correction and criticism. I guess you could say I've been so used to believing I'm right (and therefore never wrong), that it gets in the way of keeping an open mind. Which explains a lot about why I have the hardest time dealing with my father, why I would get in trouble with authority figures, why I can turn my back on friends and never friend them again, why I had the hardest time deciding what to do with my thesis.

And I realized something else, too. My Research prof's criticism was enlightening - I tend to complexify things. "Complexify" is not my word, I picked it up from Junboy who was describing an ex boyfriend of mine. Actually, he was correcting said ex-boyfriend, who had just said that he liked to simplify things, "You? No way! You don't simplify things, you complexify them!" But I digress.
Anyway, when it comes to me, I realized that I was looking for a meaty problem to sink my teeth into. But the only thing that it was going to serve as an academic, scholarly paper in the Philippines would be my own gratification that I wrote such a smart, complex paper. What good, then, will it be to other people, when only I can understand it? It's mental masturbation at its finest.

I do like to make things more difficult. Could it be that I like the challenge? I have to knock myself on the head the next time I try to take on the world with my bare hands. In the movie, 28 Days (no, not 28 Days Later, just 28 Days), Sandra Bullock's character is in rehab and they hang a cardboard sign on her that says, "Confront me when I don't ask for help." That is so me, that it's uncanny.

I'm fully booked for the summer. I don't know how it happened, actually, but I'm dancing full time, teaching kids' creative movement, elementary modern and stage acting for our studio's summer workshop within the week, starting serious work on my thesis, preparing syllabi for my new other job that's supposed to kick in after summer. Quick, confront me when I don't ask for help. I think I may need a cardboard sign.

Thinking about how hectic it's going to be the next months, I'm going to milk my holy week vacation for all its worth. I would definitely like to start now.

---

Tzigane update: we did the entire thing without stopping for the first time today. We've done most of it adequately well the last week but Anatoli would stop in the middle to correct something or we would be dying and he would stop so that we can catch our breaths. Today, we did it start to end. Mostly pretty good, there are some things that need work, but that's to be expected. I think if I do it everyday, I'll soon get the hang of it and do it flawlessly. Just don't ask me to perform it in front of a mass of people.

(Yes, I know performance is what all this practice is for, but I'm in denial.)

messages and giveaways

I'm addicted to gmail's special thingie that tells you how long ago you received or wrote a particular message. It's there beside the sender and the subject of the email, it says you got/wrote this message "2 hours/days ago" etc. Now, whenever I look at any message, whether on yahoo or LJ or my tagboard on my sleepyhouse (hullo Mayo!), I'm wishing it specified when that message came in, according to how many minutes/days/weeks ago I got it.

Given that, I have gmail invites. You want gmail? Send me your email addies either here (just say vahvels at yahoo, or something) or to joelle.jacinto at gmail dot com. I have a lot, like 50 or so.

speaking of Mayo

I feel like visiting you up there in the land of No Yahoo. You think Faith would be a good sport if I send her stuff about my Dad and PBT over again? I promise to deliver this time (our company manager, we've discovered, talks a good talk but is slow on the follow up). Just tag me. I miss you!!!

onions and chocolate

I healed myself today. I made myself some onion soup (though it could have used more meltable cheese), I did body conditioning exercises for my poor ankle, I resolved not to worry about religiously updating my thesis journal.

I'm sick and tired of writing in my thesis journal. All I'm doing is whining. I'll only write entries when something happens or when I observe something that seems pertinent to my thesis. What I'm accomplishing (instead of writing my thesis) is giving a voice to the noise in my head, the noise that I've been trying to shush. The noise in my head that questions my determination and scoops out every little insecurity.

I don't need to submit my journal entries to my Research prof anymore anyway. It's now all a matter of getting things into the thesis and I know where I'm headed now, unlike how I was pre-journal. I'm setting myself free.

I smell sorta like onions. And cocoa, because I got all umay from the onion soup and I made myself Swiss Miss. They weren't kidding when they said chocolate made you feel good, huh? I'm fizzing.

the nerves

thesis journal entry # 14

This will still be about Tzigane, but because something interesting happened yesterday. The day before, Nino and I were feeling much better about our execution of the steps, so much so that Nino was already bragging that we could perform it the next day. Then, the next day comes and while I'm putting on my pointe shoes, our company manager walks in and tells us that we have a lot of tentative shows coming up this month, the earliest being next Tuesday. And people were all, "If we're gonna dance on such short notice, it better be something we've been rehearsing." And someone said, "Tzigane!"

And the most curious thing happened. I started to not be able to do things that I normally could do. Like where to put my passe after Nino drops me into the fishdive after the overhead butt lift (um, it's called that because one hand is beneath the back of my left thigh, the other is under my butt) and not being able to recover properly. My double tours to the knee DISAPPEARED so Anatoli changed the step to a supported sissone split en l'air. I can do that well, it's just the idea that he changed the step that's frustrating. And all my turns are off. And it was so bad that at one point, I suddenly changed where my arms go and smacked Nino in the face with my elbow.

I realize it's a case of the nerves. I suddenly didn't feel confident enough with the possibility that we might be dancing this sooner than we thought. I was all happy without this pressure and doing everything pretty good the other day. Now look at the mess.

Both Anatoli and Nino are optimistic though. I have to shake this off somehow.

why I'm not buying a new phone

1. I cannot afford one. I was only able to buy my last two expensive phones because I had a way bigger paycheck than I do now. Now, I can't buy a phone. Well, maybe a cheap one. And even then, I bet have other things I'd rather buy than a cheap phone.
2. I really liked my old phone. The way I use it. The way I can text on that keypad and everyone else had the hardest time. The way it looked, how nice and shiny it is and it didn't look like a toy the way some 3650s do. The way it sounded when it messaged me. I did say I get attached to things that belong/ed to me. These things are the hardest to replace. Buying a new phone, a cheaper not as pretty phone, is like getting stuck with the regular 20 hour ISP Bonanza prepaid cards after the promo of the 30 hours with free internet from midnight to dawn had ended.
3. I'm pissed at the idea that if I want a phone immediately, I should go to the bargain places to get a cheap phone. I'm thinking some of these bargain places get their phones from the jerks who follow unwitting backpackers around and take their phones from them. It may be a slight chance that I buy a phone acquired from the people I currently hate the most on this world, but I don't even want that chance to exist.
4. I'm shaking myself from my phone dependability. I was thinking just a few days ago that I really didn't need a phone. The most it did really was be my walkie talkie to the love of my life, at the time of the snatch, I had around 150 messages in it from him. I miss the instant accessibility to my lovey. I might buy a phone someday, to regain that instant accessibility, which I really miss. But it's too soon and I don't want it to be like a drug and I need some crazy fix.
5. I'm punishing myself. I lost too many phones already. I let my guard down for a short walk and look what happened. I'm still kicking myself in the butt.

Actually, generally, I'm okay. I'm thinking how mightily stupid I am but I'm okay, I'm not devastated. The hardest thing about it was to tell my mom what an idiot she has for a daughter. She's always the one who takes it (losing cellphones) the hardest.

And, this may sound strange, but sane at the same time, I am happy. I just lost my 3650 but not even that is big enough to get me down. Can you imagine how happy I am right now? Even I have absolutely no idea. It's that huge.

better than last week

thesis journal entry # 13

This will be another entry about Tzigane. Or rather about improvement. We gave Tzigane a go again today and we're very pleased that we have now super memorized it. Now, it's all a matter of getting the steps right. Difficult, almost impossible steps are easier now that Nino actually stops and asks, "How does this work?" It's not perfect yet, but it's getting there. So much so that Nino wants to perform it tomorrow.

I still feel kind of off, when it comes to taking class, but I'm taking it slow. Which is always good.

i shoulda known better. it was good while it lasted.

Joelle gave her phone to the evil Tiktiks between the MRT and Galleria one fine Monday afternoon. She is kicking herself in the butt because she deserves it. She doesn't think she's going to buy another phone anytime soon. Instead, she will buy an organizer, a watch, a digital camera, a video recorder. And the next time she buys a phone it will only be a phone and not something she cannot live without. You may currently reach her through email, IM, this blog or her landlines, which she will give out when you email/IM her.

If you want to read a little story that was inspired by this incident, check this out.

interviews, ethics and good relationships

thesis journal entry # 12

We talked about ethics in Research class today. And this moved to the realm of The Interview.

We have to be very careful when we do interviews because we would like to get the best data from our informants and since we're going to benefit more from this than they ever will, it's always practical to have a good relationship with the "subjects and objects of your writing."1

I remember the first interview that I really bombed on. It wasn't my first interview with anybody, but I was working for an ambitious portal that wanted to be Everything for the Filipino and required me to write an article a day, and I was just too tired to do the research on electronica and asked Malek (formerly of Rubber Inc, currently of Sweetspot and Sound) to be interviewed by me on the spot and I said, "So tell me, what is it you do?" Which of course pissed him off and he was mean to me the entire hour we sat down to talk after my coercing him during the launch party of some I-don't-remember-what-anymore. After that, I never went unprepared to another interview again. And when I see him, I just duck whenever there's the slightest chance we might make eye contact and hope he doesn't recognize me, or better, remember me anymore.

But, in general, and when it concerns ballet especially, I have really good rapport with my informants. After I wrote my undergrad thesis, I had somehow become known to the dance world as the Denisa Reyes expert, and I feel so cool whenever Denisa sees me and is so happy to. I feel cooler when she's trying to get me to work with her. I wish I had taken that opportunity then, it would have been a good learning experience, among other things. But no, I would not quit my sell-out jobs for my art, yet. That had to come much much later.

After Malek, I guess I've been in good graces with everyone I've ever interviewed. Which is good because I'm going to have to be doing a lot of interviews for my thesis. And God knows I need to be in good terms with everyone for what I plan to do. Aaaaah.

---

1 Mirano, Elena, from a lecture in class today. 2

2 This footnote is because as part of our ethics lecture, she told us to cite everything that doesn't belong to us and it would be dangerous to fail to. It's called plagiarism, baby. I'm merely practicing.

patience is a virtue

thesis journal entry # 11

I take back everything I said in thesis journal entry # 10.

This is the thing: I was PMS-ing. And I was slightly out of shape because we had a three day non-dancing vacation. And my partner was still learning the frigging dance. So it was bound to suck. When we rehearsed again Friday, Anatoli was able to correct things that Nino was doing wrong, like not stepping out to keep me centered in some spots and not holding my body low enough to slide me across the stage.

(--- is it just me or did that last description sound hot? Man, I can really have one track of a mind if I want it to be --)

And I guess I'm impatient about getting it right. I have always been this antsy about being perfect. Next time it threatens to lord over a rehearsal, or anything, anything at all, I have to smash it down. Patience is a virtue, dearie. Yes, I'm talking to myself.

What's nice about Friday's rehearsal is Anatoli's confidence in me. Usually, he's changing steps for people, saying, "Not nice, maybe do this (easier step instead), better for you." I'm always appalled that, in a professional setting, choreography is changed so that the dancer has an easier time dancing. What kind of professional dancing is that? How do we up our standards of technique and proficiency if we allow that to happen? It kinda says a lot about the state of dancing in this country, but I'm never going to go public and say that aloud. Outside this blog, of course. May nobody who matters ever find this and hold it against me.

Anyway, back to me, he would be correcting Nino because he knows I can do certain things properly, so if it looks wrong, it's because Nino's not holding me properly. And it turns out to be just the case. Or if it's my fault, he'll only have to point out what I'm doing wrong and I get it right away and he holds his palm out and says, "You see?" Like he knows I can do it, I just didn't know how. It's very encouraging.

I'm getting my groove back, turning more, jumping higher, though I have to work on smoothening out my transitions and keeping my center in check. Things like those never really go away, they just have to be reminded that they exist. Which is why I'm supposed to take ballet class every day.

Tzigane blues... or reds, whichever you prefer

thesis journal entry # 10

I'm out of shape. It's strange that I am because I only rested three days without ballet and I was thinking how good it was for my ankle and my poor knees and my eyes that don't need to be wearing contact lenses. Back to ballet and my ankle, my knees and my eyes are back to how they were, like I didn't rest them at all, ingrates.

It's frustrating because you want to be able to take a decent class and instead, you're in semi-pain trying to keep up with Anatoli's strange combinations. It's no way to live, I think.

And then the serious rehearsal for Tzigane has begun. And you don't want to dance Tzigane out of shape, but you don't have a choice. There's a lot of stuff I feel I could be doing better, I just haven't found my groove yet. And it's not at all encouraging that your partner is having a hard time getting back into shape as well - he particularly has a lot of getting into shape to do because he rested an entire year. I remember him to be stronger than he is now; he's actually having a hard time catching me and lifting me and I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't have eaten too much since we went to Davao.

At times, I'm afraid that I'll do a completely bum job and I can't use my out-of-shapeness (or my partner's out-of-shapeness) as an excuse anymore. I'm really worried that I won't do a good Tzigane because I'm not good enough. Or I'm doing something wrong so that my partner has a hard time lifting me. It's times like these I wish my Dad was watching the rehearsal.

The thing is Tzigane is a show-off ballet and all of a sudden, I'm afraid to show off. I'm having
doubts about myself that I'm able to show off, that I have what it takes to dance this. It was created for Lisa Macuja for crying out loud.

I don't know if I'm going to dance this at all, besides my insecure evaluation of myself, because I'm heavily embedded in most of the company's outreach repertoire. Will they take me out of some dances so that I can dance Tzigane? If this is a promotion, I hope I don't botch it up.

I don't know why this is going into my thesis journal at all. I think I may just be whining my head off for no reason except I had a less than stellar rehearsal yesterday. But I may need whatever insights I make here in the future. Or I may not. We'll see.


battle scars on my right armpit from one of the tricky lifts in Tzigane

who changed the format anyhow?

It's killing me that in American Idol this year, they're eliminating according to boys and girls and there's obviously more talented boys than girls this year and they're eliminating talented boys and keeping dorky girls because of their new elimination format pre-top 12. It sucks.

Just ranting. I think I'm hormonal. You'll see.

ola!!!

thesis journal entry # 9
(I count discussing my thesis two blog posts ago as thesis journal entry # 8)

I got email from my friend Aileen the other day. She's in Spain, on a three-month residency with the David Campos Ballet in Barcelona; she's supposed to return to the Philippines and perform in our Swan Lake (she's already casted as Lucas' Odette/Odile) in July, but we're all expecting her to return to Spain and dance there forever. She should - better pay, better conditions, and ohmylord, a chance to live in Europe! While some of us are thinking we can probably sit cats or something.

Anyway, this is her reply to my reply to her first email. Naturally, in my email, I had already told her what I planned to do with my new thesis topic because Aileen had previously been dancing with BM and the first time Aileen and I had danced together (a million years ago) was in a summer workshop under BP. I was thinking, since she's seen how all three companies operate, this should be interesting for her.

In her email, she tells me about what they've been doing in Spain, which I believe I can use for my thesis, and towards the end, comments on my thesis topic. This part I found rather interesting:

"...ayaw mo nun, marami kang malalaman, i´m sure, it´ll all be the same, kahit saan ka naman magpunta you´ll encounter similar problems in companies."

I was not, myself, thinking that at all: the possibility that these three companies, and most companies whereever you go, are having the same problems regardless of the different conditions they operate by. This is something I really want to discover while digging deep into my thesis.

narcissus

I gained a little weight.

I blame my stay in Davao and the eat-all-you-can places they took us to. I've been on eat-all-you-can mode since Saturday. Now, I have a tummy. And it's not an imagined tummy. You know how you eat too much at lunch or dinner and your belly swells up because of all the food that went in? Well, that's what it's been like for me because I've been overeating like none of your business. Even when I got home, I'd overeat. Now, my stomach is a bit pudgy.

The rest of me is all gaunt still, so when I complain about my newfound fat to anybody, they're like, "You're anorexic!!!" No, no , you don't understand!!!

Anyway, I'm going to be more careful about going nuts at mealtimes. If I ever let myself go, it won't be for another twenty years. And maybe not even then.

the thinking vacation

I've been slacking off my thesis journal recently, particularly because

1. I had just submitted my first seven entries to my Research prof and since I don't have to show her any more, I don't feel compelled to write any anytime soon.
2. I haven't been dancing since Saturday, nor was I exposed to any kind of dancing at all, so what exactly would I have to write about?
3. I have a new thesis topic and this is all I'm thinking about right now, not any new thoughts about dance.

I have a new thesis topic. My prof convinced me that I should stop defending ballet as something deserving of study. I realize that it's the biggest problem I have with my thesis: my thesis problems are not concrete because I keep trying to establish that dance is not only worthy of academic study but important, intelligent shite as well. And it was the road to pervasiveness, little did I realize!!!

(Pervasiveness? Pervasivity? Pervasion?)

Another major problem I'm having is there is nothing of this size written about ballet in the Philippines. So the most practical thing to do is write the most basic - about history. Yes, my prof is getting what she wants in the first place. But it's not the way I had first perceived it. Instead of writing a history of ballet in the Philippines, I'm to discuss the structure and sociological workings of the three major ballet companies in the Philippines, which will definitely require the history of ballet in the Philippines and more. It's not easy, boring shit that I'm going to shovel. This is going to be a lot of hard work.

My prof had to assure me that if I wanted to write about something more complex, I needn't rush or worry because I still have my dissertation to write. I never even began to consider following my master's up with a PhD but my research prof seems to think it should be the next step. Maybe she thinks this of most MA students writing their theses.

And she and my thesis adviser (well, my supposed thesis adviser, if he's back from the National Museum anytime soon) spoke and agree that this is what I should do. Actually, when I was in consultation with him, he asked for a history of the three major ballet companies in the Philippines within my thesis and said, "Actually, that stands as a thesis in itself." Yeah, yeah, so they win but I concede because they're older than me and they have PhDs and therefore they know better. Meanwhile, I don't have to kill myself trying to prove and justify things. Why must I always have to try to prove and justify that something is important?

(Yes, Fran, I was reading your blog while writing this blog entry :* )

What made me concede was I totally agree. I've been slowly agreeing over time actually: a study of the Pas de Deux is pertinent but there should be existing studies of the bigger universe of ballet before this specialized study is made. And who's going to write that? It's not like I need to be tied up and tortured before I agree to do something like that, I think it's something I can adequately do and will have fun doing. So why all the resistance?

Because I rebel by nature. *Bonk on the head*

Anyway, I just wanted to share that I'm not slacking off. Not really. My head's been on overdrive since I started writing my Saturday thesis journal entry. I'm fizzing.

-----

In other news, you may know by now that his yumminess Jon Johnson won Manhunt after getting freaked out about doing a naked photo shoot. Woohoo.

vinta

thesis journal entry # 5

(I wrote this last Friday but was only able to upload it today because I went and packed for my trip after I wrote it and couldn't be bothered to go online. And then, after dinner, I went to watch Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, which is a marvelous movie, you should go see it. When I got home after my date, I had to go to sleep because my flight the next day was at 5:30am and my parents wanted to leave the house at 2 because they believed with all their heart that you needed to be at the airport two hours before your departure time. I'm currently in a rush to print these out for my Research prof so I'm not bothering clarifying the tenses and when I felt all this exactly. But I know you're smart enough to figure all that out. So.)

We don't have ballet class today because it's the anniversary of the EDSA revolution; we're not off because we're observing the holiday, we're off because our studio is located a block away from the EDSA shrine and it might mean we would be unable to get to the studio to rehearse because of all the traffic and blocked roads and no transportation. Otherwise, we would have rehearsed, I'm pretty sure of it.

Anyway, I've decided today to reflect on the pieces we're performing tomorrow in Davao. We're performing for the NCCA-sponsored Sayaw Pinoy, a festival of dances in celebration of National Arts Month. I'm surprised that we're only dancing in Davao this year. Last year, we danced in Pasig and again in Cebu, while the other participating groups got to perform at two places each also, all throughout the Philippines. Also, I didn't see a schedule this year, so I'm not sure how many other performances there were. But I'm assuming there are other performances.

We're performing Vinta, Tzigane and the Grand Pas De Deux from La Bayadere. Today, I'll discuss my thoughts of Vinta.

Vinta has been in the PBT repertoire for a long time now; if I remember correctly, it was first danced by Lisa Macuja as the lead dancer. Most of PBT's principal dancers had performed not only the lead, but had gone through the ranks, dancing the roles of the corps de ballet, then of the demi-soloist before dancing the part of the lead.

Vinta is an abstract, thematic ballet inspired by the sailboats of the same name in Mindanao. It is in classical ballet form and danced en pointe, but somewhat stylized. The movements are polished with touches attributed to the Muslim - flexed hands, angular arms and legs, heads held regally high while maintaining an aloof veneer, with eyes cast down. The women wear long-sleeved unitards with muslim patterns at the hems of the pants and sleeves, a pearl- studded headband, and wear a malong around their bodies and use them in the dance. The three men are in unitards fashioned in a Venus cut, and end right below their knees.

Vinta was choreographed by PBT's current artistic director Gener Caringal to music by Vangelis, soaring and evocative electronic music with symphonic and rock elements, and with a sampling of waves crashing and wind howling in the background. Lengths of cloth are stretched across the stage at the start and end of the dance. These cloths, as well as the movements of the dancers are supposed to evoke the Mindanao sailboats on the water. It is unclear whether we are the sailboat or the crew of the sailboat or the waves that push the sailboat. But then, that's the fun part of the abstract ballet, we can be anything.

I'm dancing as one of the four corps de ballet girls; there used to be six but over time, they had to cut two of the girls out of the choreography because it was performed a lot during tours. In the past year, there was a chance to make it six again but that was dropped because the costume mistress couldn't find the other two corps de ballet costumes, which must have been buried so deep in the costume room from all the years they weren't brought out to be performed in.

Anyway, I love dancing Vinta. Even as one of the corps, I think it's not a kulelat part because most of the dancing in Vinta is difficult; in PBT you're cast in Vinta when you get to a certain level in the company. If you perform Vintaon a level that doesn't meet the choreographer's standards, you're screwed. I'm serious - there are a lot of horror stories about making mistakes in Vinta that were seen by Tito G. Let's just say that Tito G can be a sweet man but he's really a terror when it comes to discipline, dancing and performance.

(No, he doesn't hit us, if that's what you thought I meant. You don't have to physically hurt someone to make them scared of you. And it's more like scared enough never to make that mistake, or any mistake, again.)

Back to my point. I love dancing Vinta because the movements are demanding and precise, but they really flow into each other - as long as you remember where your hands go while holding and letting go of that malong. It's pretty good dancing and there's a lot of triumphant senses of fulfillment when you exit that stage after dancing your best. It's also very musical, even driven by the music at times. And the dance is so structuired that even the patterns made on the floor while crossing each other make interesting shapes that contribute to the overall effect of the dance.

The lead boy in Vinta had been performed by Manny Molina, Nicolas Pacana, Raoul Banzon, once or twice by Osias Barroso Jr, Quincy Jacinto, Ron Jaynario and Lucas Jacinto. Lucas and Quincy are my brothers, Raoul is my uncle, my mom's brother. At one early performance of Vinta, performed by Lisa Macuja and Nicolas Pacana, with my family in the audience, Julie Borromeo, whom my Dad used to dance for during his time, had remarked to him, "That shouldn't be him (Pacana) up there. You know, everytime I see this, I can see you dancing."

My Dad used to be not only Tita Julie's star dancer, but also Lucresia Urtula's when he was dancing for Bayanihan and Conching Sunico's when he danced for Karilagan. People would call his dancing "magnetic" and "earthy." He had (and still has) this suave way of moving and a stage presence you can't ignore. His favorite beef about his dancing was that he was never tapped to play Prince roles, which always went to Nonoy Froilan and Franklin Bobadilla; Dad was always the contravida. But he was the kind of villain that made women swoon - my mother fell in love with him when she saw him dance an Igorot warrior solo.

Princes hardly make effective Vinta leads. Pacana is one example, Shaz Barroso is another. While Lisa mostly trusted Shaz to partner her throughout her career as a ballerina, she would only perform Vinta with Shaz a few times, and then mostly with Raoul, who is more a rogue than a romantic lead.

Then came the time Quincy was cast in Vinta; everyone was so awed by his attack of the role, from Tita Julie to adoring audiences to our younger brother Lucas. So much so that when Lucas was cast in Vinta after he came back to dancing professionally and Quincy left for the States, he was very afraid to dance it, afraid that he'll perform it and forever hear, "Well, it wasn't as good as Quincy's."

Lucas is a Prince. When he was way younger, he was even dubbed "The future Prince of Philippine Ballet," the next Prince after Nonoy Froilan. And he did live up to it. He is tall, regal and handsome and he can do clean yet impressive turns, jumps and tricks. Quincy is more like my father, always ticked off at Lucas because he's the obvious Prince, never mind if his roles have lots of meat on them already. Quincy was expected to do a fantastic Vinta and he delivered. People weren't quite as sure of Lucas in the same role.

But the day of his Vinta premiere came and the same people were stunned (myself included, but not quite as much, I think). Lucas had somehow found enough mojo to be convincingly magnetic and powerful. He did it so well, that in the past two years, nobody else has danced his role in Vinta except for him.

One of his secrets to success is quite funny. I said him once, "Ang galing ng Vinta mo ah." And he replied, "Kasi pag sinasayaw ko, iniisip ko na (and he strikes a strong Vinta pose) ako si Quincy."

Actually, there was one person who wasn't quite impressed with Lucas' first Vinta performance. That would be my Dad. He gave my brother pointers about what to do with the role, how to approach it. Over time, Lucas has studied, applied and perfected them and his Vinta keeps getting better and better with each show. A couple weeks ago, at the La Salle show, I thought it was his best performance yet. As he gets better dancing this dance, so do I feel that my dancing this dance has also improved. I suppose it's one of the reasons why I love dancing Vinta so much. Or any kind of dancing in general.

show stories

thesis journal entry # 6

We were informed that we're performing with another Ballet group and three folk dance groups. The Philippine Normal University's folk dance troupe, the Kislap Sining Dance Troupe, is supposed to join us, but they don't seem to be anywhere in sight. We blocked on the stage after lunch and were given a chance to rest (5am flight) either in the hotel or in the venue, which is the CAP theatre. Some of the dancers decided to go back to the hotel, others decided it was better to stay at the theater rather than move around too much, making rest bitin because we had to be back at the theater in an hour and a half anyway. I stayed at the theatre for that reason. And because I wanted to watch the other groups rehearse.

I'm assuming they're two different folk dance groups, but it's hard to tell because there's so many of them and there isn't any particular delineation between them. The small woman who welcomed us at the airport and the head of the PNU troupe rehearsed each dance, so it was hard to tell if the people there all belonged to just one group or the small woman was in charge of the other two groups.

One group performed a recognizable dance, of a group of girls carrying large baskets and woven cloths over their heads (I was not able to get the name of this dance, most probably of our highland peoples). I had seen this exact dance previously performed by the PNU group and the difference between the performers was staggering.

As I recall, the PNU group executed all their steps in unflinching unison - each step performed according to exact specifics: where they hold their arms, the measurement of how big or small each shoulder shrug should be, the length of the strides, the tilt of their heads. I'm assuming that this is because the dancers of PNU are training to be teachers and you can see that they are learning their dances not only to perform them but to be able to teach them to other people. Meanwhile, the groups present today had most likely come from the local schools and probably danced in their school's folk dance club or were taking it for PE. Or something similar.

The regional troupe who danced this highland dance with the baskets (from Holy Cross College) did make their own efforts to dance together and to keep their lines but you could see the awkwardness of the steps from lack of training and rehearsals and that they moved according to how they understood the step on their own. Larry Gabao, the head of the PNU troupe, had them rehearsing this dance over and over, which is probably what he would have demanded from his own group.

----

It's a strange "festival" this year. It seemed more like a recital with PBT as guest dancers. We were joined by three ballet schools - children!!! - and three folk dance groups, none of which were the PNU. Turns out the PNU's participation was cancelled at the last minute, probably to make way for the local groups. So the three folk dance groups were the Holy Cross College dance troupe, The University of the Immaculate Conception dance troupe and the Madayaw Dance Ensemble.

I'm thinking then that it wasn't even a real festival, at least not like how it was last year, a celebration of the different kinds of dance in the Philippines, with more professional participants. Then again, I doubt that the audience minded.

Speaking of the audience minding: in the La Bayadere Grand Pas, we three variation girls (myself, Betsy and Tasha) did really well except for one glitch. At the end of our variation, we do a single, then double lame duck to the right, and finish the dance with our arms up in 5th position. Tasha got suddenly confused as to where to put her arms during the turn (typical of Tasha to suddenly get confused in the middle of executing the step) and it threw her turn off. Since Betsy could see her, she got confused as to whether Tasha was right and she was wrong (typical of Betsy) and was almost thrown off her turn, wobbling on her finish. They were both in my line of vision and their confusion distracted me in mid-turn (typical of me to notice something going wrong while dancing) and it threw me off. Because of this, the audience were confused about that entire mess and almost didn't applaud. They did clap a little bit, mercy claps. It was beyond funny.

Otherwise, we ballet dancers performed really well and were quite well received. The other groups were excited about the show the next day and a lot of them kept asking me "Sasayaw rin kayo bukas?"

----

Kiddie Anecdote # 1
Before Vinta, I was standing beside this little kid waiting for her cue to go onstage. She pulls my arm and asks me, "Ano sayaw niyo?" I said, "Manood ka nalang," because I didn't want to try to explain Vinta to the little kid waiting for her cue. She then asked, "Pero anong tawag sa sayaw niyo?" So I replied, "Vinta." She screwed up her nose and said, "Ano yon?" Maybe Vintas don't sail the Davao waters anymore? Or maybe they call it somewhere else there? Or maybe I'm talking to a little child?

Hehe, "ano yon" indeed.

----

Kiddie Anecdote # 2
After the show, we were all trying to dress up in this makeshift changing space, I was the last one to get out of my tutu because I was busy coordinating that the curtain that closes around us remain closed. Because of that, I was the only one still in a tutu when one of the Mommies called in and asked if any one was still in costume and could that person please pose with her daughter for pictures to inspire the kid to continue taking dance lessons.

Of course that had to be me. The other girls were laughing their heads off as I went to comply with this request.

It was cute: the little girl I was posing with was so excited to be posing with a real live ballerina. When that was done, I wasn't - other girls wanted their picture taken with me too. It was so funny. This must be how a mascot feels like.