Checking In

Checking in. 

It has been 8 months.  And it feels like it.  People are tired, physically and emotionally.  

Me included.  My new favorite thing is to lie on the floor, face down, arms and legs stretched away in the shape of an “X.”  I figured this is for a few reasons, and these reasons shed some light on my feelings at this point on tour.  First, I think I want to give someone a hug, mainly because I really want one myself.  But instead of hugging someone, I just hug the floor.  Or, as I like to tell my dressing roommates, “I look around and cannot find a single one of you that I want to hug.”  Second, as our hotel rooms continue to shrink in size my desire for some space grows and therefore I like the idea of taking up as much room as possible (even if it is that of a dirty floor.)    

I am not crazy (or if I am it is not for the above.)  Others have adopted their own thing.

Jane has started assigning family roles to different cast members.  For example, sometimes she calls me “Mom” as in, “Can I barrow some hairspray, Mom?”  And sometimes she refers to Joel as “Grandpa” as in, “Grandpa is cranky today.”  She was happy to report that she psychoanalyzed herself and realized that she missed her family.  Fair enough.

There is no way around it-  this job feels very repetitive.  Or more so, it is repetitive.  The same steps, the same outfits, the same music, the same order of things you do in the show, etc.  Like that movie Groundhog’s Day. 

My mom told me recently, “You know, I was thinking about this.  Since I saw you last [in February] you have been doing that same show, over and over again.”  What she was getting at is that while she was at the grocery store, I was doing the show, while she was driving to Oakland to see my new niece, I was doing the show, and when she was watching my (not so) little brother play baseball, I was doing the show.  While she was busy not doing the same thing every day, I was.

This is all exaggerated by the fact that we are in our third “split-city” week.  That means we play two cities in one week, with one day of travel and no true days off.  And we unpack and pack up twice a week.  I cannot even keep track of the things I have lost these past two weeks (a bar of soap here, a pair of socks there, a piece of the sanity somewhere.)

I turned to a friend, a veteran show skater, who has been in these shoes/skates before-- hi Cindy!-- and she knew exactly what I was talking about.  First year tour is always the longest, and seemingly never-ending.  She gave some good advice, a virtual shoulder to cry on, and a little something to look forward to- resilience.  She said once I return home, I will be amazed at my resilience.

That is, if I don’t accidentally forget it in Saint-Etienne.