My Dorian Gray painting is in my muscle tone

Being unable to blog usually means I'm too busy, but the good news is there's a lot of dance productivity in the busy-ness. It's only mid-February and all three shows that I've seen so far were all awesome. I'm still writing the review for Al Garcia's Sulog sa Kinabuhi, and have some thoughts down already for my review for Alden Lugnasin's Pusong Wagas, which I saw last night.

I also saw Myra Beltran's Itim Asu for the second time last Wednesday; I was not planning to write a review for this already because I had already reviewed it, and had just published a review for last year's staging by Regina Bautista, but I do want to say how it's even more impressive now because the UP Dance Company kids (who were really just kids a couple years ago when I first saw this) have matured so nicely in both performance and technique. I'm now thinking also if I want to write extensively about Itim Asu (you know, like for an academic paper or as part of my dissertation). But I will think about that first.

What I actually want to write about now is how I injured myself in ballet class early yesterday morning. I wake up at 6 to get ready for ballet class at 8am (meaning I should be warmed up by 8) and I guess it's how your muscles are when you're 37, but I seem to have the hardest time waking them up for that 8am class. I usually joke that they're only fully awake during grand allegro. Anyway, for whatever reason, during center adagio, I am resolved to complete the closing sequence flawlessly - developpe devant, bringing that leg to an a la seconde and attitude derriere as I promenade away from that leg, rising in attitude to balance, then extending the working leg as my supporting leg does a fondu, pas de bourree under and close fifth croise. Yup, it was flawless.

As I walked off the dance floor, a spasm started to crawl across my back. I stretch it out: go away ouchie! I silently laugh at myself. Then, when we go back to the floor to repeat the exercise, I can't even port de bras. My reaction is I laugh more audibly and tell my dad/ballet teacher that I'm in pain.

Why laughter? I'm laughing because I'm 37 years old. I know some 37 year olds who are still dancing at this level, but they do this class every day and make this peace with their bodies on a regular basis. I have a full-time job and only dance on the weekends and the lucky Tuesday or Thursday evening that I arrive at our Las Pinas studio in time. I try to do some limbering every morning, but not enough to strengthen my back for a promenade wherein your working leg is held up at a 100-110% angle.

So this is what it's like for your back to "give out." I am officially geriatric.

That night, in the CCP Little Theater lobby before Pusong Wagas, I was talking to Tita Bambi and Bea Perez; Tita Bambi went with PBT when we performed Darangen ni Bantugen in China to chaperone then underaged Bianca, and I've actually danced with Bea in PBT's Swan Lake. Tita Bambi asked me if I was still dancing (so long as I'm not in PBT, people assume I've stopped). I replied that I still was, and she basically said I was too young and had too much potential to stop.

It was really sweet, but I nearly broke into hysterical laughter right then, and actually tell her about how my back gave out that morning. But the irony is lost on them, not a lot of people know after all that I am 37, and that I'm only a precious few of my generation who are still dancing today.

When Madonna performed at the SuperBowl, I made a vow to myself to stop complaining about being too old to dance, because look at Lola Madge! Obviously maintenance is key! But I have to remind myself that I am prone to all sorts of body malfunctions if I still want to dance into my 40s.

This morning, at 8am ballet class, I took it easy and took special care of what I could do, stopping at moments that seemed out of my depth (hello, which is what I should be doing at this age). My back isn't hurting anymore, though with a couple sharp jabs every now and then (and at the weirdest poses too). Not looking my age is my burden, though I'm hoping it will also be a charm somehow. Pain is obviously not going to stop me from dancing, but people saying I don't look like I can still dance will probably do the trick.

And so I greet 2012 on my blog with this optimistic outlook for dance and dancing. I had a conversation just this year with an old ballet friend on FB where he says he's reinvented himself because "we can't dance forever." I didn't reply on FB but my instantaneous reaction was "Watch me." I know this kayabangan will haunt me each time a muscle or body part or three screams bloody murder, but I also know that I can't live without dance, pain and all. It seems a fair trade, all things considered.

For more on the dance scene in the Philippines (and less about me), please check out www.runthru.com.ph.

Recital season (or another post about being so busy)

I arrived from Australia over two weeks ago, and I was supposed to keep updating the Cross Borders Collaborative blog, but I actually still have the current entry I'm working on in the exact place I left it while editing the article on the 8-hour flight on the way here and have not added to it since. This is because 2 big things have been happening to me lately: 1. We (the telecom whose online portals I manage) are launching an "improved" main portal on December 13, and 2. We (my family's ballet school) are having our annual recital on the 22nd.

(There is also the matter of a quite disturbing conversation I had with somebody about the state of dance in my country, which really did bother me, so much that it would have thrown me into depression, or at the very least, ennui, had I the luxury of time. But I don't.)

This weekend was crunch time on several levels, and it was more action packed than the A-Team movie, but it was only after I read an annoying email regarding day job issues that I had to take stock of how much this weekend rocked. Rehearsals are going very well, and unlike the last two weekends which found me feeling like I was dying with every attempt to do anything more complicated than a port de bras, I got a lot of my strength back. I don't think I'm in tiptop shape yet, but I'm getting there.

Retiring from dancing, or at the very least from ballet, has crossed my mind this last few weeks, especially when I can't complete a decent renverse, or when my back gives up in mid-execution of any step, or when I wake up really sore and exhausted the next day. Add in that bothersome conversation I mentioned a few paragraphs ago, wherein I was made to feel that this style of dance that I was killing myself for was not worth anybody's time (will blog about that another time... Or remain a secret with me, let's see how I feel eventually). Ballet is really a demanding art form but I realize that there ARE rewards. Last Sunday, in flats, I managed to escape a pas de deux rehearsal with my brother because he deemed it more important to rehearse the part in the ballet where I reveal that I, the black swan, am not the queen of the swans the Prince fell in love with and have successfully thwarted their romance forever. As we went through this mime, I remembered why I danced/dance, and not even why I dance ballet, but why I dance at all.

Yesterday, we finally run the Black Swan pas de deux en pointe, which we haven't done since I arrived from Australia. It wasn't perfect but it felt awesome. Yesterday's and today's rehearsals were quite awesome, too. There's still a lot of work to be done, but awesome still.

As I write this, I'm propped up in bed to strategically stretch my sore lower back, and my legs are throbbing and threatening to fall off from my hips. Retiring is still a reality I will have to eventually face, but I'm hoping not so soon. In light of these last few weeks that have been unbelievably crazy and stressful, and in light of disturbing conversations that make you question your life's directions, I want to remember how happy I was this weekend, as it was the kind of happiness that obliterates bad energy and makes negative events not matter. In life, I've learned, there's just so much out there that makes you forget.

shift in priorities

This is sort of an update to this blog entry, where I discuss how I have to prioritize my dancing over dance writing and how I was planning to blog more to make sure my writing doesn't get rusty. I realized that if my time was dedicated to only dancing, I was effectively not seeing the dancing of other people, and therefore I'm limited to quite narcissistic topics, aren't I? Hence, the almost non-existence of blog entries posted up after. I mean, there's only one entry and it's about my niece/godchild.

Also, I am in the process of reconfiguring my life to move my priorities around a bit. I believe this is more exciting than it has been in the last few months. Hopefully, it will continue to be exciting and I'll have more blog posts up here soon.

Thanks for reading, and staying. Cheers!

The Day of Berry

For those who don't know yet, Berry is my goddaughter, my baby brother Lucas' first (and so far only) child. She loves Minute Maid orange juice, spaghetti noodles and ensaymada. She also loves to dance. The first time she danced, she was inside her mommy's tummy while mommy was watching me, my siblings and my family's ballet school perform Don Quixote at the Insular Life Auditorium. Seriously, as the entrada started, Erica's tummy started pounding as if there was a furious basketball inside.

She spent the day with us today, she arrived at our ballet school as I started class for our second level kids; she was wearing her tights, ballet shoes and a ballet skirt made of tulle. When I started rehearsals for this year's recital, she walked over to me and held my hand. So when my students started rehearsing, she was dancing with them also, sorta. Mostly she walked around as the students carefully danced around her, sometimes holding my hand, sometimes on her own. She would also stand in the midst of the girls doing skips and ballet runs, sometimes shaking her hips and shoulders. Since we're doing The Nutcracker this year, she would run about with her own wrapped gift (for the Christmas party scene) or holding a clump of fake flowers (for Waltz of the Flowers). At one point, while my students were swaying and galoping side to side, she would sway her head and shoulders along with them.

This is how I always envisioned how it would be when I have my own child, while I'm teaching or rehearsing, she or he would be hanging out in the studio with me; kinda like Twyla Tharp and her son, except not as cool. Of course, there already is the constant harassment to actually have my own kid and not play pretend with my brother's, and no, I don't mean my mom as she doesn't really mean to pressure me, she just likes the idea of having grandkids (and she won't admit it). The constant harassment is my own biological clock tick-tick-ticking away, at odds with the pact I made to keep dancing for as long as I can. I truly feel that when I do get pregnant, I will not be able to recover from it and dance the way I am dancing now. I'm giving myself a couple more years. The thing that frightens me though is what if after giving myself a few more years to dance, I find that my childbearing years have passed? I have recently been convincing myself that I'm not too old to have children and won't be too old to have children. After all, Jenna Elfman had her second baby at the age of 38 and she was producing and starring in a tv show the entire time she was pregnant. A couple more years is just about right. I hope.

There are days when I have this idea in my head that I can live the rest of my life childless. That it's okay to be selfish in this way in this day and age, that I'm just programmed for a different life, that I don't want to eventually deal with a sullen teenager (especially if it turns out that they take after me), that we all die alone anyway as I won't force my kids to take care of me in my old age. And then there are days like today.

priorities

I haven't been updating this blog, nor Runthru online as of late, and neither have I actually been going to watch other people's shows because of 2 things. First of all, at the day job where I'm working full time (that I've been doing for over a year), I was assigned to a new boss and there has been a turnover from simple website publishing to full blown strategic editorial concerns which has not been easy. It's a total paradigm shift, and not just a matter of getting used to the demands and quirks of the new boss.

I was hoping that this won't last forever, that this is just a really extensive turnover phase, but realistically, it does seem that this is going to be how life is going to be like for me, given the new demands of the job. And so I am forced to decide what to do with the little free time I have left, as there's not much room for so many things. Although I will try my darnedest to get some writing done, and will continue to post up events and news on Runthru Online, it is no longer a priority. The priority, of course, is dancing.

Yes, dancing is the second reason why I haven't been actively writing. I find that there's just not enough time in the day for both dancing and writing. At this point in my life, it's kind of obvious why I would pick one over the other. If you'd like, if you can convince me otherwise (or at least present a strong, almost compelling case for writing over dancing), I'll give you tickets to the next PBT show. (Yes, my day job has trained me to push interactivity with the audience haha).

In the interest of keeping my writing from getting rusty, I've promised myself that priority or no, I have to keep updating this blog - at the very least. It's not a big commitment - blogging is not the same as writing a review of a performance which deserves deliberated construction. It's just bits and pieces of thoughts on what's going on in dance. Sure, there's going to be more reflections on my own dancing, but I do promise not to post whining about how old I am and how difficult it is to rond de jambe my left leg higher than 90 degrees. I still have a lot of drama left in me, but I think I'm not that puerile anymore.

Will write more tomorrow. Hopefully, I'll have time to publish what I write some time between meetings, supervising my team and stretching my hamstrings.

In the meantime, I've recently put up Donna Miranda's performance notes of Agnes Locsin's Sayaw, Sabel and a profile on ballerina Carlos Garcia on www.runthru.com.ph. Baby steps, yeah?