NO SLEEP! NO SLEEP!

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,
I need to blog so that the people who read this regularly know what I'm doing. And so I remember, since I've been terrible at journaling lately. I don't know what to write though...this experience is so big and I feel like my brain has been slowing and my body has reached a breaking point. At the very beginning I always had like 80 ideas in our Etude meetings...when we stopped doing etudes I was lucky if I had one to volunteer. Today in Ballet I could barely lift my right leg, and I had no arm strength to assits my poor dance partner in Ballet during lifts.
Everyone is a little...stressed. Emotionally, mentally, and physically. I think part of that has to do with the fact that we celebrated Thanksgiving last week...and that it is now December. We have been pushing for a long time, and now we are almost out of time. Final performances are approaching, and we are starting to feel the pressure to experience as much as possible while we can, even as it gets harder and harder to make ourselves get out of bed on our one free day during the week.
Last week I got a brazillion. Maybe that's an overshare, but I'm slightly proud. It's no big deal in the states where we all speak the same language and I know what to expect. But I had the Russian version this past week. Think about it.
And another incredible show. My favorite, Yury Batusov, directed King Lear with Konstantine Raikin as Lear. I honestly don't know how to explain it in this blog. It was the most creative interpretation of King Lear I've ever seen or heard of. The way that he dealt with the fool was so smart. And there were no villains, only victimes. He took one of Shakespeare's great tragedies and made it even more tragic by adding dimension to the characters that I never saw before. I got extremely lucky as far as seating. I went to the bathroom right before the show started, so when I came back to take m seat, a stressed usher hurried me to the nearest seat she could find, which happened to be 8 rows from the front of the stage, dead center. After seeing Raikin act, REALLY SEEING him, I can say that he is among the very best in the world. He's probably my favorite actor. What a good night; my favorite director and favorite actor.
Then there was Thanksgiving. It actually turned out beautifully. Everyone had their food assignments. I made a salad. A HUGE salad. And apparantly it was good because there was none left at the end of the evening. Actually, I must admit -- and don't take offense, family -- the food was better than usual for me. Maybe because there were better vegetarian options. Any way, I was extremely grateful for our beautiful food and the people I shared it with. But it wasn't as comfortable or warm as being home. Everyone had a good time, but there was an underlying sadness.
On Friday I saw the Pillow Man. I love that play, so when we learned that we had the chance to see it, I was among the many rushing to get tickets. I stood for the whole production, but it was totally worth it. The acting was really very good, ecspecially Ariel. He was exactly what I imagined Ariel should be, and then some. He was tragic, and hilarious, and scary. I know the play pretty well, so I was mostly just enjoying myself, but there were those who didn't know what they were walking into -- they had a very different, very disturbing experience. The most wonderful part of the play took place just after the "little Jesus" story and right before Ariel's monologue. The little Jesus shadows him around the stage, then places her crown of thorns on his head. She then goes downstage center and puts her arms up to make a cross, and Ariel shoulders her, and drags her off stage. Pure, perfect, visual poetry.
Saturday held every promise of being a great day and great night. And it was in a way. I went out to dinner, and that was great. Food is such a hurried thing here, that I really appriciated sitting down and ordering a meal. Afterwards the group went out to a club. Of course this is where things fell apart. The cost of admission, the time crunch imposed by our 1 am curfew caused everyone to scatter. I ended up at the old tried and true, Vinograd. Whatevs. Everyone was emotional, more so than usual since it was fueled by alcohol. Around 3 am this culminated in a cathartic volcano erruption of emotion. By 4 or 4:30 I was in bed. By 10:30 am, Kirsten was knocking on my door, walking me up. She really should stop doing that.
Sunday was a tired, incredibly unproductive day. That night we went to the circus.
I hate circuses. I really do. I'm revolted and heartbroken when I see the animals. Tigers don't belong on a podium, posing for pictures with children grabbing all over them. Bears don't belong in ice skates and hocky masks. It's sick. And I get that it's for kids -- but why make a show with no artistic merit whatsoever? Kenya and I sat down for the second act, and thirty seconds into it, she turned to me and said, "You wanna go? Let's go." And we did.
Stretching right now is like trying to stretch a piece of wood. So I'm going to go work on that a bit before rehearsal.
I'm tired, and stressed, and not always happy. But then sometimes I'm more happy than I've ever been...and for the first time I feel a sense of satisfaction and contentment with the low moments as well. Because I'm learning, I'm growing, even when I feel like I'm about to fall apart. It means that this experience is worth something.
I'm eating frozen black berries while I use the bag to ice my hand on which I just accidently dumped hot tea while I listen to Aida. So you see, though I complain, there is much to be happy about.
Paka.
Hannah