Under Pressure

Sometimes, life happens, and by "life" I mean "insane amounts of work," and when that happens, you might (a) suddenly have no time/energy/desire for a social existence and (b) learn a new part in roughly two hours, to be performed the next night. Section (b) includes two options: you can either freak out and be nauseous and worry about a bunch of "what ifs"--my preferred course up until about, oh, two years ago. Or you can call your mom, have a good dinner, have an even better dessert, watch your favorite hot-doctor show (I'm looking at you, Grey's Anatomy), watch the DVD of your new assignment a couple of times before attempting to sleep, not crap your pants, and try to remember something awesome, which is: what you do for a living is meant to be fun, highly enjoyable even, and not pimple/sweat/vomit-inducing. For my first, highly unexpected 'solo part' at Royal Danish Ballet, I am desperately attempting to achieve the latter. And so, with apologies to this woefully-neglected blog of mine, please enjoy the very dulcet tones of David Bowie and Queen. In the meantime, I will return to Dr. Alex Karev & Co., and subsequent obsessive viewings of Svanesøen, in the hopes that the combination of the two (plus some chocolate milk and cookies) will result in a good night's sleep and an unprecedented injection of confidence and shoulders-down-ness...