To Discover the Language of My Soul.....: Brownies and Leg Warmers and Coffee, Oh My!

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Brownies and Leg Warmers and Coffee, Oh My!

There's something to be said about sharing dessert with friends. Gossiping with coffee and a brownie between you can bring about the best conversations, and even create some of your closest friends. I know from experience. I seem to make most of my closest friends over hot, steaming, flavored coffee and brownies. A few thousand calories are worth the building of a friendship between classes on a busy day.

But then again, similar interests are also a good thing. The majority of my friends are dancers; we bond over our love of performing onstage, our mutual hate of aching muscles and pulled ligaments and our love of hot caffinated beverages.

Most people I've met don't think that there's such a thing as a cliche in the performing arts. There is. You can usually tell who the dancers are by the way they dress and what they carry:

- Usually some form of dance or gym bag
- Most are seen in "street clothes" with some sort of added accessory- ie. arm/leg warmers
- They carry bottles of water everywhere
- When they change into dance clothes, they wear either leggings, dance pants, tights and athletic shorts, tank tops, ripped sweaters, or old t-shirts
- Dancers are usually seen wearing their dance shoes and carrying their "street" ones
- They usually have their hair pulled back in a ponytail or bun held together by bobby pins or clips
- Leg warmers are 99.9% of the time a part of the ensemble

From my personal experience, the majority of the time, dancers stick together, sitting in front of the dance studio warming up or talking or gathered together at the most random places- cafeteria tables, library bookshelves, or water fountains. We spend our time chatting about our days or bitching about the muscle we've pulled from the previous class.

We share our makeup and split our brownies; run over each others' sentences and trade leg warmers. We exchange information on where to get the best leggings for a great price and do each others' hair as we chat about the schools we're applying too or what we're doing for the next recital.

We all have similarities in our lives; have danced from the time we were children or fallen into it by mistake. We choose our degrees by the best income, and then pick classes that are on such an opposite extreme that it's almost planned.

But the main thing we do is stay loyal to our friends; as dancers, we live by an unspoken code:

Respect the choreographer.
Respect the performers.
Respect yourself.

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The Photograph in the Music Box

April 15, 1912

“They recovered two children that had been in first class. One was identified as Loraine Allison. The other was never identified.”

The RMS Titanic sinks after striking an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic on April 15, 1912, taking thousands with her. Though the majority of the survivors are first and second class, and the majority of the victims third and crew, there were a few casualties among the upper classes that have long since been forgotten with the passage of time.

Among the casualties is a young girl; never claimed, she is later referred to as Victim 281 and buried in Halifax. All that is left of this innocent girl is a fading photograph in a music box buried in the wall of an apartment building in Manhattan- discovered nearly a century later by Shaynee Wilcox, the daughter of the new tenants. Armed with only the faded photograph of the young girl, Shaynee’s determined to discover
her true identity, and finally lay to rest the spirit of one of the Titanic’s youngest victims. As she uncovers clue after clue, Shaynee soon discovers that, not only does the girl have a link to the Titanic sinking, but she also has a link to Shaynee herself.

The Romantic Egotists

“I grew up among the great artists of Paris- Ernest Hemingway and his wife, Hadley; Ezra Pound and William Faulkner, Picasso, Gertrude Stein and her lover, Alice Toklas, and
of course my parents Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald.”

It is with these very words, that Frances “Scottie” Fitzgerald takes us back to those long ago nights in Paris; when the
world was still recovering from the destruction of the Great War, when Russia was trying to reassemble the shattered pieces of itself after the bloody fall of the Romanov dynasty and Germany was allowing a man called Hitler to start taking control.

In Paris, the wave of painters, writers, dancers and playwrights’ crashes upon its shores like the Allies upon the European coast. Sex, drugs and alcohol run the streets of grand ol’ Paris, corrupting the mind and setting in motion the wheels of rebellion. It is here, in Paris, at 27 Rue de Fleurus, that a group of expatriate Americans meet and begin turning out some of the greatest literature, art and dance of the twentieth century. The child of the couple forever known as the “Romantic Egotists”- the real beautiful and damned- Scottie tries
hard to come into her own during those muggy Paris nights, despite the constant push and pull of her mother’s erratic behavior and her father’s egotistic criticisms. Here, among the sting of smoke and smell of alcohol, surrounded by lust, love and sex, young Scottie sips her first taste of jealousy, and
discovers the cost of being famous. Into this world, Frances Fitzgerald is thrust, a silent witness to the trials, tribulations, darkness and light of a generation defined as forever “Lost.”

The Sound of Sickness

"Sickness has returned.
Cover your ears and hold your breath.
Breathing in could result in death."

Alexi Michaels has been surrounded by Tuberculosis his entire life. With his mother, he places docent at the Waverly Hills Sanitarium to tourists in Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops, telling them the history of this sad and disturbing chapter in Kentucky's history.

That same evening, while taking a private night tour of the decaying building, Alexi meets Marit, a fourteen-year-old girl who resides at the Sanitarium while she slowly dies from TB. She's watched and waited for Alexi to arrive, spending decades within Waverly's rotting walls, a spiritual shell of the girl she once was.

Over time, Alexi begins to win Marit's trust, and using a series of family photographs, Marit tells him of her unfortunate story. She knows all the secrets and stories of the hospital, including those of her unlucky family members- both hospital resident and worker.

But Marit has a secret. A secret that sent her to an early grave. A secret she's willing to share with Alexi if he gives her something in return.

Something that, to Marit- like every other patient at Waverly Hills- is worth more than its weight in gold.