Life of a Freelance Dancer is a blog, journal, and tool for those who are interested in freelancing themselves, that want to know the ins and outs of freelance work, or are just curious about the life of a freelance dancer.
Greetings to all of you, my beloved readers! I hope that you have been enjoying an incredible summer full of hard work, rest, relaxation, and preparation for a fantastic 2017-2018 season. It has been very odd for me to take so much time off from writing these past few months. But it was absolutely necessary for me to take a few things off of my plate to make space for my extremely challenging schedule. July was quite murderous for me with daily commutes stretching as long as 9 hours (thanks to summer traffic heading into NYC), weekly teaching schedules including 12+ classes, weekly podcasts, and preparations for our move to NYC. I'm aware that I have been running a very fine line between setting up my work life for our move and burning out on my tedious travel schedule. In good news, I feel like I have finally gotten over the hump of summer insanity, so I want to offer you a very brief update before I go back into blog-hiding again for a little bit.
First and most exciting, my Danya and I have officially given our 60 days notice that we will not be renewing our lease in Philadelphia. After 19 months of super-commuting to see if transitioning my career to New York City would be a good fit, it became so overwhelmingly clear that we are 100% sure that this is the right thing to do. I have spent most of the summer teaching regularly at Steps on Broadway and Broadway Dance Center, but have also spent a lot of time teaching my kids up at Greenwich Ballet Academy in Connecticut and Port Chester, New York. I have also begun developing the 2nd year of what I hope to be a 4-year contemporary dance training syllabus for pre-professional ballet dancers. Beyond this, I have gained employment one evening a week with another school in New Jersey this coming fall. While I still have room for additional choreography, teaching, speaking, consulting, and private lessons, I will have my first set of stable work and income since I began freelancing back in 2011. I bet you can hear the great sigh of relief that I just let out having put this down in writing to share with you.
The second piece of news I have could be seen as good or bad news, depending on how you view it. Part of the reason I needed to take a break from writing on LoFD was because I had severe writer's block that I had never experienced in the 5 years of continuously developing content for all of you to read here. I couldn't figure out why I didn't want to write, aside from assuming it was a symptom of my overwhelming travel and work schedule. When I finally gave myself permission to take some time away from here, my initial reaction was that I was done with blogging. But as I continued to rest my mind and repair my thought process, I came to realize that I am having such difficulty coming up with new material because I have evolved into a new stage of my career. While I will always have the heart of a freelancer and likely continue to work as a freelance dance educator, choreographer, speaker, and who knows what new additions I will add, I have not had any new experiences as a performing freelance artist in quite some time. Most of what I've written on here in the past two years has involved recollections and memories I had during my tenure traveling the country from company to company. This combined with the fact that blocking online bots from spamming my blog also stopped major search engines from offering my writing to the general public (I went from 250-1000 daily views to 20-50). I couldn't figure out why I should continue writing on here, especially with the tedious process of starting from scratch to regain the former visibility my blog had retained. Having some time to think, I realized that I still love to write and want to continue sharing valuable information and intriguing personal and second-hand experiences of dance artists publicly.
Taking all of this into consideration, I determined that if I was going to start over building my blog's audience, I was going to do it in a way that is now relevant to the career-style that I am living and breathing. For this reason, I have decided that I am going to stop writing for LoFD, archive all of my valuable posts for readers here and in the form of an E-Book, and launch a new blog this fall about the life of dance educator, coach, choreographer, speaker, and whatever else comes my way. I am hoping to cover all relevant topics for the stage of a dance career that happens once a performing artist takes their final curtain call. I am not quite sure the title of this venture or when it will launch. But it will likely happen soon thereafter my husband and I transition our lives 90 miles north to New York City. So, be sure to stay tuned on here for a major announcement that will likely happen somewhere during the time period of October or November.
Lastly, I just want to take a moment to thank all of you for being so understanding as I figure out what is happening in my life and how I can continue to provide the best content for my family, friends, colleagues, and readers. I hope you will continue to join me on this fascinating journey that has been my dance career.
Performing my own choreography - Gated Lies in Philly Fringe Festival (Photo: Bill Hebert)
When I first started Life of a Freelance Dancer, I didn't really look at this venture as a way to share the strikingly honest truth about different aspects of the dance world. I was an injured, recently jobless dancer with no clue how to go about making a living as a freelance artist. Once this blog really started to take off, I began feeling the need to publicly express different career experiences I had in order to offer a real-life glimpse of the ups and downs of a dancing independent contractor. Over time, I've become that guy who is known to share his greatest achievements and darkest moments. This open-book attribute of mine has garnered me a great deal of criticism. But it has also given me a distinguished voice as an artist in a relatively silent art form and offered me exciting opportunities.
One of a few of my recent opportunities became public this week. I was asked by a lovely dancer in the Philadelphia post-modern dance scene, Mira Treatman, to write an article for a week-long series she was asked to curate on the Philadelphia arts website, Curate This. When Mira asked me to write for her week as curator, she offered a handful of topics for me to write on. The one that really jumped out for me was the subject of why I need to move my art outside of Philadelphia. Once I had chosen my topic, I spoke with Mira and stated, "I am really interested in writing this article. But I will only write it if I can be completely candid about my experience failing to make Philadelphia my artistic home." Gladly (and probably a bit nervously), she accepted my request and I moved forward to write this piece. Please be sure to click the link below to read my personal experience trying to work in the Philadelphia dance scene for 5 years and why I have spent the last 7 months transitioning my choreographic and teaching career from the birthplace of our nation to the capitol of the dance world. Enjoy!
Nearly two weeks ago, about an hour after midnight, I laid my head to rest at my Washington Heights sublet. It was snowing again, which wasn’t shocking considering the timing of my past four Bolt Bus trips back home to Philadelphia and how they each coincided with some type of snow event. When I left the apartment scurrying amongst flurries the next morning, I knew that had been my last night in this ultra-Spanish neighborhood that was the inspiration for the Broadway musical, “In The Heights.” When I returned from Philly a week later, I’d be laying to rest on my friend’s couch in the refined gayborhood of Chelsea. After my fourth night there, I left this afternoon to embark on a weekend trip to Los Angeles to celebrate the life of my great friend and benefactor, Mimi Chiang. It may end, though, with me sleeping at the airport. My first flight was cancelled and my re-booked flight officially has me listed on standby. When I lay down to rest (hopefully tonight) in the Pacific Palisades, my mind may drift in and out of strategic problem solving to determine where I’ll stay when I return. Trying to find a short-term sublet in New York City is a difficult task. It’s been a stressful search, but I’ll just deal with it when I have a free moment. I know your first thought, “Gosh…I’d be utterly panicked right now!” Oh, I’m getting there. But a modern day gypsy must live for adventure.
Back when I first moved to Philadelphia in June of 2011, I met a peer and colleague whom I had known of since competing against him in the first two years of the international youth ballet competition, Youth America Grand Prix (circa 2000). Robert Colby Damon, or Colby, had been working as a freelance artist for a few years by that point. I knew, with my 22-week contract, that I’d have to endure a small amount of freelancing work. But I had no idea what I was truly in for. Colby and I used to talk about his couch-surfing habits and his fly by the seat of his pants housing situations. I probably sat talking to him, mouth agape, trying to comprehend how he lived like this. Little did I know, that I was about to fly through my own crash course in modern day gypsy-ism.
My First Gypsy Bed in NYC
I didn’t start off living this crazy, nationally-touring freelance lifestyle at such a fast clip. My first stay in somebody else’s home was in New York City for 3 weeks when I performed at the Guggenheim. It was nearly 3 months that I slept in my own bed after that. Then, I spent 5 weeks residing with a host family in Anchorage. Once I lost my contract with Ballet X, things picked up at an almost frenzied pace. 1 week on Long Island, 3 weeks in Providence, 1 week in New Hampshire. Dancing a summer gig in Philadelphia was a nice respite from what was about to come. Within 2 years, I would see Rochester twice, Myrtle Beach, Virginia, West Virginia, Louisiana, San Francisco (twice), Walnut Creek, Los Angeles (too many times to count), Anchorage (again and again), Indiana, and more and more and more. Aside from 5 months at home at the beginning of 2015, I haven’t stayed put for more than a few weeks for over 4 years.
My Washington Heights Sublet & My Weekly Packing Ritual
What does it feel like to travel as much as I do? It requires a certain sense of adventure and freedom from expectation. It necessitates one to go with the flow. Oddly enough, I find myself micromanaging my life when I return home to my apartment in Philadelphia. Likely because I finally feel like I can control my environment. When people meet me in gypsy-mode, they often comment that I am so laid back. Instead of plastering on this facade, I learned that it is just easier to submit to the uncertainty and confusion that can come from changing things up on the regular.
One thing that a lot of people wonder is how I cope with the irregularity of this lifestyle. Honestly, sometimes, I don’t. Sometimes, I ignore my own needs and keep pressing forth to create my art and pay my bills. This is a bad way to deal with things. And as I learned back in 2014, it can lead to severe, nearly-crippling burn out. What I have found that helps is to acclimate fast, find what comforts you absolutely require, and to stay connected with people in your life in order to maintain some semblance of normalcy.
Seen on my acclimation walk in Richmond, VA
To acclimate myself to a new situation, If time allows, I will always go for an extremely long walk (or drive if that is available) around the neighborhood that I am living in. Knowing where food, drink, and toiletry options are helps a lot. Do keep in mind that you will likely spend more money the first few days, as you won’t know what stores in neighborhoods provide the best deals. When I first began subletting in the Heights, I paid nearly $5 for one of my favorite snacks when the grocery store a block away sold it for $2 less. It’s essentially the equivalent to moving your entire apartment and adjusting to that new neighborhood, only every couple of days or weeks.
As for comforts, I know I’m a fully-grown man, but I travel and sleep with a little stuffed animal that my partner gave me as a gift the first year that I started traveling for work. I haven’t slept with a stuffed animal since I was a little kid. But the discomfort of sleeping somewhere foreign and having an empty bed makes this more comforting than you could imagine. Or in another case, if your morning routine requires coffee (like mine, and lots of it), if coffee isn’t readily available, buy some instant coffee. No matter how poor the quality of the brew, it will be comforting to know it is still somewhat within your control.
Lastly, be sure to keep communication lines open with friends and family. One of my biggest challenges, as my workload involves a great deal of in-studio and out of studio effort, is to make contact with those that I love and who love me back. Text messages don't always feel extremely personal. I like to use chat apps (like Facebook messenger), phone calls, or Facetime/Skype calls to have a full conversation versus broken apart text chats that may span days. I feel it is important for any gypsy to be surrounded by people they know beyond acquaintances on a regular basis, even if not in person. At times, I have felt like I was losing sense of who I was before I started freelancing. I used to have a group of friends and co-workers that would joke, tease, and laugh with (and sometimes at) me. Whether they were lovingly pointing out my flaws or supporting me in an unnecessary moment of distress, I always knew who I was as I saw my reflection in their attention. I lost this for some time as I became too focused on my work. So, be sure to note the factors that bring normalcy into your life and try to keep them with you on the fly.
Sometimes, I wish that I never knew what it felt like to be a gypsy. And part of the reason that I am residentially floating around New York City is to find a place to call my career-home. It’s both emotionally and physically exhausting. But at the same time, I find myself constantly peering back into history at my 15 year old self and imagining what he would think if somebody told him this would be his life one day. It’s fascinating and horrifying. Exciting and nerve-wracking. I don’t have long flowing garb or dangly earrings. I’m not quick-witted or sassy. I’m a 5’ 10’’ Jewish gay white boy who wears the same clothes that everybody else does. Yet, it wouldn’t be odd for you to see me pass you by with a carry-on sized piece of luggage dragging behind me. My name is Barry Kerollis and I am a modern day gypsy.
I’m back on the Bolt Bus on my way from New York City to Philadelphia looking at the shimmer of lights aglow in skyscrapers dotting the sunset as I enter the depths of the Lincoln Tunnel. While I’m on my way back to Philly for a few days to spend some time with my Danya, I am also going back a night early for another reason. I’ve hinted at this before, but I’m not sure if I’ve written about it in any detail. While I’ve never specifically been diagnosed with clinical anxiety (though I tried medication for a short period of time with no effects), I can be prone to spiraling into streams of stressful contemplation about my present and future. Some people have anxiety when it comes to performing, this is definitely not me. But in my past few years as a freelance artist, I have developed a great deal of anxiety surrounding where my next job is coming, from what is going to happen in my career, and what the future holds. I had a good handle on these impulses to overanalyze every possible thing that could go wrong when I had a stable job position. But as many other freelance artists have shared with me, living from job to job and paycheck to paycheck can pull out a whole slew of emotions that can send one driving down a highway of reasonable and unreasonable concern. While I am seasoned in how to deal with anxiety, I can’t say that I am an expert at coping. But with all of my experience in this area, I’d like to share some GOOD and BAD ways that I, myself, and others I’ve worked with handle their anxiety.
Anxious Face
GOOD - Write down what is making you anxious, why it is making you anxious, whether it is valid, and a game plan to relieve your concern if you consider it valid. Most of the time, I find that my anxious thoughts like to replay over and over again in my head because I like to evaluate, then reevaluate the evaluation to bring about the best outcome. This can be helpful to a degree, but tends to bring about a never ending cycle of thought. If I put these items down on paper, I tend to take the thoughts out of my head and stop the cycle of overthinking.
Dinner with my family (niece & Danya with me)
BAD - I know a handful of people that shut down when they are stressed. Instead of dealing or coping with what is causing their anxiety, they sleep all day, stop
interacting with people, or just ignore their anxiety in hopes that it
will disappear. This is no way to handle anxious thoughts. Try to avoid and be proactive to stop
these negative coping mechanisms. Get up and get out. Go see some
friends or family. There is no better way to stop anxious thoughts dead
in their tracks then by hanging out with people that care about you. If
you are with people you trust and have a chance to share what you are
experiencing, then do so. But don’t dwell on the subject too long or let
that anxiety take away your chance to forget about what is stressing
you out.
GOOD - If money is stressing you out, as it does for many freelancers, don’t allow yourself to stay holed up in your apartment. Maybe you haven’t eaten out for awhile because of your financial fears. Maybe you haven’t seen an inspiring show in some time because “you just can’t afford it.” Don’t sit around your apartment feeling all anxious and sad about your bank accounts current state. There are ways to make things happen, you just need to be savvy. For instance, I am currently in a famine state of work. So, while I survive off of the feasts of yesterday, I find ways to make things happen. Can’t go out for dinner? I make dinner at home, then meet up with a friend for “dinner” and order fries or an inexpensive appetizer. A few bucks is worth my sanity. Or make a picnic and eat it outside of the comfort of your home. Don’t feel that you can purchase a ticket to that production that you have had on your calendar for 6 months? Give a few things up. Whether it be your daily latte, that bottle of wine, or that thing you think you need today (but could really get in a week or a month), pass on these items and buy that ticket. This way, you aren’t losing any money that you weren’t going to spend anyway and it feels like a special treat.
Overindulging, perhaps, with a delicious Pumpkin Martini.
BAD - Alcohol, Drugs, Etc. - Now I’m not one to judge and I’ve overindulged before. But turning to items outside of your body to help relieve anxiety is generally only a temporary fix to the bigger issue at hand. While becoming intoxicated is an easy solve to relieve overwhelming anxiety and stress, these things are likely to cause more of it down the line. Drugs and alcohol not only cost a great deal of money (which is a likely contribution to your anxiety), they often leave you feeling depressed, tired, and more anxious afterwards. Now, some people do require a certain dose of prescription drugs to chemically balance their brains or to take the edge off of extreme symptoms. But there is also a fine line with these types of drugs, as well. Don’t be afraid of a recreational evening with friends. Just be aware of your reason for indulging and avoid excess.
GOOD - A great deal of my own anxiety stems beyond finances outside of a feast period. But I also deal with stress caused by overwork and lack of immediate results. While dancers tend to judge their career well-being on the parts that they are cast to dance at any given moment, freelance artists tend to note their worth based on whether they are working and what they are working on. One way that I cope with this may seem a little odd. During my off times, you can often find me reviewing my previous work. Whether it be watching a particular role that I felt good in or a ballet that I choreographed, I watch things that remind me that I am successful and have talent. For me, particularly, it is easy to feel like a failure when sitting around waiting for that next call back or commission. Reviewing my previous work not only helps remind myself of where I’ve come from, it helps inspire me to push my next bout of work even further.
BAD - At times, I have committed the worst offense that most people dealing with some type of anxiety commit. I have lashed out at loved ones when they are trying to help. When things become overwhelming, it can be hard to tell when somebody is trying to help because often it feels like nothing can help. A partner offers some advice and you respond with a snap. A friend tries to relate and you tell them that they just don’t understand. Remember this. There is no greater gift than receiving the support of a loved one. Even if you can’t move past yourself, step outside of your mind and show appreciation for the care being offered to you.
GOOD - Look around at the things in your life that you can take control over. Anxiety tends to be inspired by an overwhelming fear of things that are mostly out of your control. Maybe they will be in your control at some point in the future. But, at the moment, you are unlikely to control all aspects of your future that concern you. If you take charge of certain things that are more in your control, like how much sleep you get, how much time you spend working to get work, how much recreational time you give yourself, and the state of your body, you may not feel as overwhelmed by the things in your career and life that are out of your control.
One of my favorite anxiety reducing activities - photographing skyscrapers (World Trade Center)
Nearly 15 years ago, I sat in the backseat of my mom’s car with my
luggage packed in the trunk and stars in my teary eyes. We were waiting
in line to pass through the bottle-necking entrance of the Lincoln
Tunnel. I had just completed my final year of pre-professional training
at the School of American Ballet, was
embarking on an exciting career journey, and had just offered goodbyes
to many friends that I still remain close to today. While I was sad to
say goodbye to my friends and to move on to the next stage of my dance
life, I wasn’t crying for either of those reasons. I knew then that it
would be quite awhile before I called the city that I felt so closely
connected to home. The city that inspired me to work hard. The city that
showed me art mattered. The city where I grew from child to man. There I
was, in the back seat of the car talking out loud as if the city had
ears, “One day you’ll be home again. I’ll be back!” Well, I’m not one to
say things that I don’t mean. Today is that day.
Awhile back, I wrote a post titled “New York Calling,” where I considered the fact that New York seems to hold some strange gravitational pull for any artist that calls themselves dancer.
At that time, I was caught in the middle of my freelance performance
career floating from gig to gig with little direction but the wind. I
wasn’t necessarily getting much work in the city, but I was receiving
little sparks of possibility as I began dreaming of settling down from
traveling for a little bit. While I started feeling that pull to return a
few years ago, circumstances just seemed incorrect or impossible to
move the hour and a half hop, skip, and jump north of my hometown.
At
one point in my life, I would have probably just run with my gut
feeling and moved to the city without furniture, job, or care for how I
was going to make something happen. But things changed at some point
along my artistic journey. When I first met my partner, I gave him the
daunting ultimatum, “Don’t make me choose between you and my
career...because I won’t choose you.” After agreeing to this intense
consideration, he moved to Seattle to be with me (I claimed 2 weeks
after he moved that I was auditioning to leave PNB,
which took nearly 5 years to actually happen) and later relocated to
Philadelphia for the next stage of my career. But by the time I started
realizing Philly wasn't working out, I couldn’t choose between him or my
career. He had already given up so much just to be with me, so I needed
to give him a chance to develop himself and his career. So, I’ve
freelanced out of Philadelphia for 4 years and ignored the pull of the dance capitol.
I
came to a realization in the last year, mostly brought on by my first
extended period of time staying home in Philly the first half of 2015.
During my time at home, I did everything that I could possibly do to
find inspiring work and connect myself to the greater Philadelphia
professional dance scene. I sent applications to teach at
pre-professional training programs, I applied for a ballet master
position with PA Ballet, and I
reached out to find a way to be a part of the greater ballet scene the
city has to offer. At one point, I even applied for a week-long
collaboration residency that placed Philadelphia-based artists with
others in different genres. My rejection letter was kind, but I was
disheartened by the feedback that stated, "It seems you are more
interested in meeting artists than collaborating with them."
While
there were moments of hope, I was left to go back to my regular way of
working; creating my own inspiration and traveling the country to places
that valued my work. By the time this summer had passed, I began
craving outside inspiration and a place to call my artistic home. And it
just seemed that Philly wasn't going to offer that to me. I knew what I
had to do. But I was afraid to say it. I was afraid to ask. I was
afraid to give myself permission. What if I moved to New York?
I spent much of the fall season working on my Core-ography project
and developing my AK-BK Intensive Winter Workshop in Anchorage. But New
York was on my mind the whole time. Slowly, but surely, I realized that
I had to make this happen. During a quick visit to the city right
before heading up to Alaska this past December, I mentioned to a good
friend that I have freelanced with in the past that I was looking for a
place to live. I was just catching this friend up on what I was doing.
And, by chance, he happened to have a room opening up at his apartment.
Fast-forward
a little over a month later, and here I am (I started this blog on the
bus and finished after I settled in) laying in my brand new bedroom, staring out my window at the
beaming George Washington Bridge, and smiling after my first day as a
new resident of this incredible city. What am I going to do now that I'm
here? I don't know. But I am so excited to have hope, possibility, and
dreams staring me straight on. I look forward to looking back at this
post down the road and seeing where this risk and adventure takes me.
View of George Washington Bridge from my bedroom window
Many of you may have have been disappointed that I wasn't living up to my claim of being a nationally touring freelancer over the past few months. Honestly, I needed a break from the chaos of sitting amongst my fellow homo sapiens at airport gates from city to sparkling city, among other reasons. Yes, I traveled by bus to New York City a handful of times over the past 6 months (and luckily took the Bolt Bus instead of the train the night of the Amtrak crash), but I haven't existed amongst the rank and file economy class of aerial travelers for some time. It has been glorious to say the least. But, I'm back at it. In fact, I began writing this blog on my phone waiting in the security line at Philadelphia International Airport and continued while flying from Philadelphia to Phoenix. Now, during my layover in Phoenix on my way back to Anchorage, I am beginning to transcribe it from a random table at a random coffee stand with this beautiful image burning color into my eyes.
Looking out the window at the airport in Phoenix
With that said, I'm actually quite inspired by reentering the regular travel schedule of a freelance dancer and choreographer. I am heading back to Alaska to kick off my inaugural intensive training experience, AK-BK Contemporary Ballet Workshop. And, as I was attempting to check in for my flight with the ticket attendant waving me to the counter, not one of the three people blocking my path moved (or even turned their heads) when I kindly, but audibly spoke, "Excuse me." There is just something about airports that make most people lose their sensibilities and act like animals sitting around a watering hole, a la Mean Girls.
So, this time around, I've decided to have an interlude list blog between all of these "Create Your Own Project" series postings. With that said, I am here to offer you all of the advice you could ever need on how to CALM DOWN and act with civility when you are at an airport. Cheers!
- Keep this in mind at all times. It's just an airport. It is no different than the rest of life. In fact, the rules are almost exactly the same as they were in elementary school. Stand in line. Be nice to and aware of the people around you. Listen to the people in charge. And you will have few problems. Simple.
- If you are all like, "OMG!!! I get nervous before I fly...and sometimes it...umm...affects my stomach...but I need privacy...to...umm..." too much information, DON'T FRET! There usually are bathrooms located on the floor where you collect your ticket and drop your baggage off. These lavatories are usually completely empty and absolutely spotless. Aside from the occasional employee who goes in there to take a whiz, nobody goes in there or seems to know they exist.
(Note: at this point, my flight is probably already boarding...and I'm still sitting here in the cafe typing my blog. See how calm I am?)
- If you have a question or concern, ask an employee or TSA agent. They may seem to rudely ignore you, cut you off, or be short with you. They have a lot to tend to. Just wait patiently until they can find a moment to answer you. If you stand there and wait for them to assess the many situations in front of them, they will eventually give you a competent, attentive answer...even if they don't smile and say "Have a nice day!" They are more interested in maintaining all of the crazies running around than giving you their full attention and offering a smile. And, more often than not, when they realize that you get how it works, they will be nicer and more willing to help you out.
- Oh no! You raised your voice at or approached an airline worker or security agent with an angry tone. Be prepared for them to have no interest in assisting you in any way, shape, or form. It, honestly, is never ever acceptable to treat airport employees this way. No matter how in the right you are, they are in control and can make your trip miserable from start to finish.
In no rush...
(OK...I finally left the cafe at this point. I was one of the last people to board my plane. And I even had time to take a picture!)
- I have flown hundreds of times and my luggage has always shown up at my location...eventually. If your luggage doesn't show up with your person, unless you are carrying an organ for transplant or the hope diamond, calm down, take a breathe, and stop somewhere inexpensive like Target (and price-match) for a cheap new outfit and some toiletries. Chances are you'll have a good memory/story every time you wear it again. I always find that my best experiences come from working through adversity.
- Employees and TSA agents want you to make your flight. You aren't the only person that has somewhere to go. You honestly don't need to be at your gate until about 10 minutes before departure, when they close the door to your plane. If you are cutting it close, talk to an airport employee. Just understand that everybody's goal is to get you to your destination. If you miss your flight, not only are you a hassle to the airline, you are lost revenue.
- With the above said, you don't need to be at your gate an hour before your flight (if I haven't driven that point home yet). I usually show up about 5-10 minutes after boarding begins. What's the rush? And who really wants to be the first passenger on the plane to stake their claim and feel pride in their victory of knowing they made it on the flight. I'd rather be the last person on the plane and shorten the length of time I'm strapped into those damn uncomfortable economy seats. Everybody on that flight is going to get to their destination, whether you are first or last.
- Do you really want to drag your carry-on around that airport during your layover? And how often do you truly get up to pull something out of it during the flight? In fact, I don't think I've ever seen somebody pull their rolling luggage down into the aisle mid-flight, unzip it, pull something out, and put it back up in the overhead compartment. I always pack my heaviest items in my carry-on to save on baggage fees, then walk straight to the counter at the gate and offer my carry-on to be checked to my destination. It's free. It helps. It's not a hassle. The gate agents love you for it. And a majority of the time, I only needed that extra thing from my carry-on before I got onto the flight.
- You are not the most important person in the airport (unless, perhaps, you're an A-list celebrity). Just like driving or walking down the street, your time is not more important than everybody else's. Calm down and act with a sense of humanity.
- You've traveled more than once in your lifetime? Congratulations...you've been delayed. Now calm down, grab a beer, charge your devices, and do something practical. Write a blog ;-) or play a game. Or explore your terminal. Or find a quiet place in a corner of the airport and take that nap you need because you were too nervous about your travels to sleep.
- You've lost your ID or passport. Calm down. Think about the places you might have left it or put it down. Is it in your car? On the seat of the train? At the magazine shop's counter? Can't find it? PANIC!!!!! Honestly, this would be the only time I would really lose my cool.
- AHHHH!!!! I have to get scanned by an X-ray machine. Is it gonna give me cancer? How invasive! Chill! The shadowy silhouette of your penis or breasts are nothing the TSA agents are writing home about (or taking pictures of). Again, you are one of thousands of penises and breasts being scanned each and every day. Again, you are not the most important person walking through the airport.
- Rolling luggage rolls behind you. Turn your head around and look behind yourself every once in awhile. Also, don't walk into my rolling luggage. I just walked by you and you clearly saw it. But you lack enough common sense to slow down (or have lost it in your airport panic). And if you trip yourself over my luggage, don't give me a dirty look because I'm already flashing one back at you.
- If somebody says "Excuse me," look at them and determine what they are seeking. "Excuse me" does not mean "STAND YOUR GROUND" and ignore everybody around you."
- Not all security lines are created equal. Maybe you can go to a security line that is located a bit further away in distance, but has a much shorter queue. Most terminals are connected once you get past those pesky TSA procedures, anyway.
- If you have to suffer through a flight of loud talkers and crying babies, it is probably your fault for not making a playlist to block out the noises echoing back and forth in that happy tube we call a fuselage.
- I've mentioned this before, while you are waiting to go through security you should be emptying
your pockets into your bag, pulling out your ID and boarding pass, and prepping to remove your laptop from your carry-on. There is no excuse for being unprepared and imploding once you walk up to the conveyor belt. Maybe, mentally preparing in line will occupy your panicked thoughts about missing your flight or losing your luggage.
- Nearly everything you travel with can be replaced. If it can't, leave it at home or keep it on your person at all times. Though, if my phone or ID go missing you might see some frantic actions.
- Need to waste time in a terminal? If it is a big enough airport, treat the shops like the mall. Don't buy anything because it's likely overpriced, but go window shopping. Or, even better, download the game Ingress on your phone and run around the airport stealing portals for good or evil (just make sure to leave enough time to recharge your phone).
- If you don't plan on watching your kids or teaching them appropriate airport etiquette, don't conceive them in the first place.
- If you plan on having a bad attitude on the plane (reasonably or not), whether with a fellow passenger or a flight attendant, prepare to be shamed. A few years ago, I got snappy with an elderly man sitting in the seat behind me in the middle of Nutcracker season. He probably pulled on the back of my seat about 20 times throughout the flight. I was burnt out on traveling and exhausted from all of my gigs. Whether I was in the right or not, the death stares and shameful looks I got from those around me took away any gratification I got from having my seat stay in one position for the last 2 hours of the flight.
It's JUST AN AIRPORT!!!! and not worth the stress
Remember...airports and airplanes are not unique or uncommon experiences. While it may be that for you, at any given time thousands of people are flying miles above your very head. There is no reason to treat an airport experience like you are standing in a depleted food ration line after a natural disaster. As I like to say, CTFD (which isn't only an acronym for Career Transitions for Dancers...and may begin with the word calm and end with the word down).
Proud director of these four talented students from Alaska Dance Theatre
This past weekend was quite exciting for me and a few kids from Alaska Dance Theatre. After months of preparation, two of my students placed in the top 12 in the Junior and Senior Contemporary divisions at the Youth America Grand Prixsemi-finals in Philadelphia. We also had our male competitor win 3rd place in the men's Contemporary division. To seal the deal, I was recognized with a special award for Outstanding Choreography. It was a very exciting weekend for all of us. Who knew that dance was alive and well in Alaska ;-)
It's been awhile since I've posted a Video Break from my writings. So, in honor of our success this past weekend and to fulfill your ever-growing curiosity about my choreography ;-), I am posting the complete pas de deux from Distinct Perceptions, a ballet that I choreographed at the National Choreographers Initiative this past summer. Enjoy!
On December 7th, I will return to Philadelphia after being away from home for 108 days, or about three and a half months. This has been the longest I have been away from home without at least passing through for a day or two in between gigs. The first time I spent more than a few weeks away from home, I was surprised to find that getting back into my normal patterns was much more difficult than I had expected. Spending any extended period of time in a different environment requires some adjusting to get back into the swing of things, even in the comfort of your own surroundings.
I've often found while preparing for a performance, my focus becomes very intense and I may become completely consumed by the process necessary to get ready for stage. When I worked at Pacific Northwest Ballet, this was built into the fabric of my every day life. I woke up in my own bed, worked at the same facility daily, and returned home to rest in my own apartment. When I had weekends off, I would rest, hang out with friends, and enjoy the surroundings of my city. Developing patterns over time and repetition are natural and make living your own chosen lifestyle comfortable.
Dance is my business (Photo: Brian Mengini)
While preparing for a show as a freelancer may be similar to my experience at PNB in some regards,
it can be quite different when you don't work where you reside. Essentially, a dancer is often forced to start from scratch with their lifestyle and friendships in each locale that they are hired. You generally can't call your close friends to hang out, go to that same yoga place that always helps you find your zen, find the exact same ingredients to that favorite meal you make every week, or drink at your favorite watering hole to let off some steam. Each freelancing gig can be an exciting, fresh adventure in a new city. But while you are building an alternative, short-term lifestyle elsewhere, everything still keeps running like usual back at home. Dealing with this reality can often be one of the biggest challenges for anybody that travels for extended periods of time with their work.
Back in 2012, when I first spent 5 weeks away from home with Alaska Dance Theatre, I was thrilled to return home to enjoy the familiar, see my partner and cats, and visit my friends and family. When I left home, tons of friends showed up to throw me a party to send me off on my adventure. Once in Anchorage, I became so immersed in my work that I didn't really think to shoot off a text message or make a phone call to check in with what was happening with most of those people. After my time away, I expected the exact same reception for my return upon my arrival. A few people had reached out to me on Facebook and stated how excited they were to see me. But the reality of my homecoming was more like walking onto an empty country field in the dead of night. Instead of stepping back into a scene of revelry, I came home to crickets. Most of those friends who sent me off were continuing on with their lives as they normally did. Nobody was holding their breath waiting for my plane to touch down.
Dan working from home
Beyond my local social network, another place that, surprisingly, had changed was in my home. While my partner and I had been together for over 7 years and talked on the phone nightly, he had started to develop patterns that didn't include me. Since he works from home, he had gotten used to working alone in our living space and enjoying the quiet and freedom that came with it. A simple midday question from me could lead to a stressful conversation about interrupting work-related activities. Where I used to be in a pattern of performing household chores, I had gotten more lax living in a home with a host family. I even expected extra attention. I felt like we had to make up for lost time. But things had continued on without me, even in my own home.
What I had originally thought would be an easy reintroduction, turned into a stressful period of examination and carefully executed re-entry. I spent my first week at home depressed and sitting around waiting for my phone to ring with invitations to reconnect. I quickly realized that any effort to see old friends was going to require me to be the one to reach out. One of my biggest challenges was that I had started freelancing almost immediately after moving to a new city. If I had been living in Philadelphia for a few years, it probably would have been easier to reconnect with friends. But I was still in the development period of most of my friendships in the city. I had to be very patient to connect again and found myself spending a lot of time exploring Philly on my own to occupy my time before my next travels.
Exploring Philly on my own
When it comes to reacclimating to living with somebody that you have a relationship with, I find the best route to take is to leave all expectation at the airplane door. Yes, you still have the same relationship that you used to have. But it is human nature to adapt to your surroundings quickly. For this reason, instead of stepping into your situation with expectations, I would suggest taking a step back and letting things find a refreshed order. Even though you missed each other, you don't have to feel that you have to fit five weeks of time into the first week after you've returned. Take your time, don't overwhelm one another, and allow for a little added space than you are used to. Where you may have spent every non-working moment together in the past, you have likely gotten used to spending a bit more time to yourself. See where each of you are and slowly start to get back into more common patterns.
Time away from your home environment allows for one to return with new and fresh excitement. But don't let expectation get in the way of a happy return. Reach out to friends while you travel and after you've come home, but don't put the pressure on yourself to have an exciting homecoming party waiting for you. Don't feel like you need to live your life exactly as you did before you left. And don't suffocate your loved ones with immediate expectations. While traveling for work and time apart can make the heart grow fonder, break mundane lifestyle patterns, and refresh your outlook on living, it can also add stress to what used to be regular patterns. If you approach your return with less expectation and more awareness, you can gain a great deal of life experience to enrich your lifestyle at home.
Often, independent contractors work for organizations to fulfill work on their own terms. But it isn't uncommon, especially in the dance world, for these specialized self-employed workers to use independent contracting as a trial period with companies that they might consider joining as a full-time employee. Many people work for themselves because they chose to do so a long time ago. While other people who work in this way are only doing it to make ends meet or because they have had a work experience that turned them off from full-time commitments. Using independent contracting as a tool to test the waters can be a very effective way of auditioning a company to see if their work environment is a good fit for oneself.
My view on the way home from Homer, AK
I have been keeping a secret from my readers for a few months. While I haven't been freelancing or working as an independent contractor, I took a job that mimicked the lifestyle/workstyle that I have been living for the past few years. Back in August, I accepted an offer to work as Interim Artistic Director for Alaska Dance Theatre. I moved to Anchorage on a 4-month trial contract towards the end of the subarctic Summer and began working to lead this important arts organization. I never applied for the job and was quite honored when they called me up during my time at the National Choreographers Initiative back in July. It has always been a dream of mine to lead a dance organization and the potential for this to happen at the ripe age of 30 was extremely enticing. While I found this exciting, I also needed to keep a level head about the situation.
As many of you probably remember, back in 2012, one of my very first posts was about freelancing with Alaska Dance Theatre. Dancing with this newly formed company was my first foray into traveling as a freelancer. I had danced in one or two gigs prior to this, but they were always in familiar places that were close to home. This was the first time that I had been offered work in a place that was foreign to me and, to be honest, I was scared shitless. It was the first time that I would reside in a smaller city. It was also winter; which meant it was going to be cold, snowy, and dark. Lastly, everybody talked about it being an extremely conservative state where Sarah Palin reigned supreme. I was pretty sure that I was going to be gay bashed or lynched by some pioneer with a huge beard and a passion for hunting.
A few weeks before I flew to Alaska for the first time, I had a nightmare where I was driving to the rehearsal studios on a snow machine. In my dream they were located up a tall, steep, and snowy mountain. In blizzard-like conditions, we got about halfway up the mountain when it became too steep to continue on the snow machine. We had to get up and ascend the mountain by foot. Before I ever found out if we successfully reached the studios or succumbed to the frightening weather, I awoke from my dream. I was clearly dealing with some internal stress about spending five weeks in the "Last Frontier."
I dreamt the Alaska Dance Theatre studios would be here (they're not)
When I finally made it to Anchorage, I was pleasantly surprised to find that most of my nightmares were only that. Yes, it was cold and snowy. But it wasn't as cold as people would think and the snow was quite beautiful. Yes, it was dark. But every day it got lighter by 5-10 minutes. Yes, it was a small city. But it had more culture and acceptance than I ever expected. Everybody hates Sarah Palin and the people are way more community-oriented than most other cities in the United States. I had a great experience in Alaska and gained a lot of respect for the place. So much so, that I returned a year later to dance with the company for three months.
While my first experience in Alaska was quite a nice surprise, my second time around was a bit different. Most of the positive light from my previous time in the state was still there, but the organization was displaying symptoms of financial instability, cultural challenges, and green leadership. By the time the three months were complete, I was ready to get back to Philadelphia. Nonetheless, I still left with a strong affinity for a place that probably would've never been on my radar had I not been working there as an independent contractor.
This past July, I received the call from Anchorage during an ideal moment in my life for this job opportunity to become a possibility. I was recovering from an injury and was working in a role that required more leadership as a choreographer for NCI. If a perfect storm of events hadn't aligned, I would've likely moved back to Philadelphia and continued working in the same capacity as I have been for the past few years.
While I knew the organization was trying to find its path when I left, I wasn't quite sure where the organization was today. In negotiations for my contract, it was mentioned that I could take the role as Interim Artistic Director to see if I would be a good fit for the organization. While I was hired as an employee, this setup mimicked the same work agreement of an independent contractor. Instead of being locked into a situation for an extended period of time, I was given a trial period to see if the organization was a good fit for me and me a good fit for them.
Me with the pre-professional company of Alaska Dance Theatre
I have had a mixed bag of an experience trying to lead an organization that is still trying to find its' distinct path towards excellence. And while I have loved my time working with the students of Alaska Dance Theatre and educating the community, it became clear that the puzzle pieces for me to continue with the organization weren't fitting together properly to keep me on board for a long-term contract. Had I taken the original offer for a year of work, I may have been left in a situation that wouldn't have been conducive for the growth that the organization is seeking. So, at the end of my term in December, I will move back to Philadelphia and begin to build a plan for the next stage of my career.
While my current experience isn't technically that of a freelancing independent contractor, it is functioning in the same capacity. Most of my freelancing work has given me the opportunity to work with companies that could eventually become my full-time job and home. I have had a handful of enticing offers that just didn't work out logistically, financially, and living between two cities with my partner. But while working with companies as a freelancer, I have always had this thought in the back of my mind that each and every experience could be the one that pulls me out of this nomadic lifestyle.
Thank you for your patience over the last few weeks as I have taken a break from writing regular blogs. For over a year, I have been writing continuous posts without a break and after throwing a successful CONTACT event (stay tuned for an upcoming blog), I took a vacation to LA and gave myself a true break. With that said, I am proud to say that Life of a Freelance Dancer was recently published in Dance/USA's online E-journal. This honor is a true testament to the content that is posted in this blog and I couldn't be happier with that. Thank you to my viewers and I can't wait to see what is to come. Now on to this weeks topic!
Bowing as "Puss & Boots" at SAB workshop 2003
At the age of 19, I danced in my final workshop performance as a student with the School of American Ballet, packed up all of my belongings, and hopped in my mom's car to drive home for the last time before joining a big company. It was a very emotional period for me. Not only was I saying goodbye to a group of friends that had become family. I was embarking on a journey that marked the end of my career as a student. All I had known was being a student. Not only did this performance note the finishing of my training, it also put a period on the end of my childhood. On the drive back to Pennsylvania, I began to cry within moments of entering Lincoln Tunnel. My mom asked me why I was crying. I replied that other than missing my real-life friends, I felt like I was leaving behind one of my best friends. New York City. I knew then that the city that never sleeps would always have a place in my heart and that I would one day return.
I moved to Texas to join the Houston Ballet less than a month after my exit from SAB. Being thrown into a new environment, hours and hours of rehearsal, and figuring out how to live on my own, I quickly forgot how much I really missed New York City. As the year passed, I came to realize that having come straight from the country's largest metropolis made it difficult for me to enjoy my transition into Texas-living. I missed walkable streets, good public transport, and having thousands of people breeze by me on their own path. I quickly realized that I needed to find another company in a city where I could live happily. Thus, my journey to Seattle began.
View of the Joyce Theater from the stage
Although I never really fell in love with the city of Seattle, I did find the city a relief from the heat and sprawl of Houston. Again, I had to adjust to my new home and company, but this time I had 7 long years to live, learn, and grow into an adult. By my sixth year in the company, I remember thinking about New York quite often. After joining a small group of PNB dancers on tour to perform at The Joyce Theater, I realized how isolated we really were in the Pacific Northwest. Just stepping foot into Steps on Broadway gave me a great idea of what I had beenmissing. I consider Steps the Cheers of the ballet world. Nearly every professional I know either takes class regularly or drops into this landmark dance studio when they are in town. There were dancers in class that I hadn't seen in years. Although I realized that these former classmates, colleagues, and friends hadn't forgotten who I was, I felt like I had been missing out on something really important.
I don't know what seed had been planted in me that eventually grew into my yearning to jump ship. But when it happened, I was set. I wanted to live in New York, but I didn't want to join the vast ranks of New York City Ballet or American Ballet Theatre (if they would even take me). So, my partner and I agreed that I would only audition for companies in cities where we wanted to live. The list was San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago, Montreal, Boston, Philadelphia, DC, and Miami. If all else failed, we would move to New York and I would freelance. Although this idea mortified me, it felt like the perfect backup plan. Alas, I was offered a job in Philadelphia and we moved to the Mid-Atlantic.
Although I was very excited to move back home (even though I am really from the burbs), I was even more excited to be close to New York again. I was already on a Bolt bus heading to an open rehearsal with a summer gig before I had even really settled into my new apartment. I got off the bus, looked around, and smiled very widely to myself. I was home. But, after spending three weeks in the city performing in the Guggenheim's Works and Process series a few months later, I had a realization. As an adult, I really didn't want to live in the city unless I could enjoy living there. When I was training at SAB, I was on full scholarship, which included classes, housing, meals, and a few more perks. My childhood in New York was a facade. I didn't have to worry about anything financially. It's a very different story as an adult and I wasn't privy to living in my favorite city and scrounging by. I have friends who live in the tiniest apartments at the highest prices. They often skip out on the finer things the city has to offer due to financial restraints. At the same time, I was happy with my transition into a new style of dancing in Philly. Why would I want to leave.
Well, as I have alluded to in the past, after nearly 8 months in our new home city, everything came collapsing down on top of me. I became injured and couldn't afford what I needed to recover. I could barely pay my rent with the greatly reduced salary I had accepted to try something new. And now that I was injured, fear was really starting to set in as I continued dancing through the pain just to scrounge by. Finally, when I decided to take time off to heal, everything imploded into me. The company had been hiding workers comp from me for months. I found out and the company responded with anger, threats, and lies. All other details aside, it nearly destroyed me, my career, and being. Not only did I fear that I would lose my home and career, I feared walking the streets of my city because I didn't want to run into any part of the close-knit dance scene that only knew a very skewed version of what actually happened. It only felt natural that I run away from the pain and fear and start anew.
After this very challenging experience, it crossed my mind many times that I should pick up and run to New York. Aside from being a great escape, there were freelancing opportunities galore. But money, my partner, and a handful of other life-items kept me from escaping all of this turmoil. Lucky for me, I had all of these things tying me down to Philadelphia. If it weren't for that, I likely would have been reacting, instead of making a conscious, thought-out decision. For this reason, we stayed in Philly and I started living the life of a freelance dancer.
It has been 16 months since these events happened and I am still happily a resident of Philadelphia. Although I find myself traveling more than half the year, I am always excited to return back home. At times, work has brought me to New York. And trying to connect with the greater part of the New York freelance community has kept me coming back. After last week's CONTACT event, I was asked to attend an audition to workshop a piece that could eventually be developed into a much larger show. I found out recently that I had landed the gig and will be spending two weeks in New York at the beginning of August.
What I have come to realize is that although I am not currently a resident of New York, being that it is the center of the dance world, I will always return. Whether as a student, professional, teacher, choreographer, entrepreneur or more. But what I have also realized is that while New York holds a large place in my heart, for the time being it is not my home. And I am perfectly happy with that. In fact, I love Philadelphia. Part of that is due to its' close proximity to New York City.
Quintessential New York City shot - Columbus Circle
Now that I call Philly my home and don't see that changing at any point in the foreseeable future, I am not yearning to be a New Yorker anytime soon. I see myself picking up work in the city and spending large chunks of time in this important hub of dance. But Philly will remain my home-base. New York continues to call and I will continue to answer. I feel any dance-professional, whether a New Yorker or not, feels this way to a degree. And you know what, when it does call. Answer!
Flying through the Italian Market in Philadelphia (Photo: Jordan Matter)
Thank you for your patience in waiting for new blog posts over the past few weeks. I have been busy working alongside my fellow company members at Alaska Dance Theatre to put on the program that we are opening tonight at the Alaska Center for the Performing Arts, Cash & Cline, as well as teaching in the school and putting together a workshop on career development. Im hoping to have a new post up by Monday, but in the meantime I'd like to announce that Life of a Freelance Dancer has officially surpassed 10,000 views. I'd like to send out a massive THANK YOU to all who have read, commented, and shared with your friends! I never imagined this blog would reach this many viewers in a short 10 months of existence. Keep reading, keep dancing, and keep freelancing! I look forward to the next 10,000!
Danya and me at Pacific Northwest Ballet's opening night gala dinner in 2006
I have danced nine shows in one week. There have been stages harder than the floor of a warehouse. I've danced multiple pieces of choreography to the same piece of music every week for 4 weeks. All of these, among others, have been great challenges for me since I began freelancing. There are many difficult obstacles in one's freelancing career, but I still find one of the biggest challenges as a traveling freelance dancer in leaving my life partner for an extended period of time. It is just one of those things that doesn't get easier the more you do it.
One of the reasons I left PNB was because I felt the company didnt get to travel enough. Working 40 weeks a year in a distant city like Seattle, I felt like my feet were glued to the ground. As a hopeful student, I heard fabulous stories of dancers going on tour, seeing the world, and getting paid to do it. I worked hard to get into a big company that had a great history of touring. Being offered a job at PNB, a place that had a reputation for international touring, I fully expected to be visiting London, Hong Kong, and many other places. But after joining the company, touring barely happened more than a few times. While with the company, I traveled three times to the Vail International Dance Festival and once to the Joyce Theater in New York City. When I left the Pacific northwest, I figured that I might travel a little more since I was only tied down to a 22 week contract in Philadelphia. In typical fashion, when I ask the universe for something, I get exactly what I ask for, but in some completely ass-backwards way. I am not complaining, but freelancing full-time was not my expectation.
My first time visiting L.A. at the Getty Museum - January 2006
My partner and I met in Seattle back in 2005. He was visiting from his hometown of Los Angeles working on a political action committee. We were instantly enthralled with each other, but both of us refused to commit because neither of us wanted to do the long distance thing. After returning to L.A., we remained in close touch. He had a trip to Egypt and London scheduled (which he had already paid for) and asked me if he went on that trip if there might be a chance that I would meet someone else. I tend to be brutally honest and responded with a bold "yes." Well, long story short, he changed the dates of that trip (which he never actually got to go on) and booked 10 days to visit me in Seattle. At the end of that foray, he returned to L.A. a few steps closer to hooking me. Finally on January 28, 2006, 7 years ago, I agreed to commit to him if he would agree to move to Seattle within a year. Nine months later, as I often refer to him, Danya moved to the EmeraldCity and we started our life together.
Living in Seattle brought us many challenges that actually made our relationship stronger in the long run. From stifled careers to passive-aggressive friendships to a tragic accident that left Danya incapable of walking for 3 months, we survived together and our bond grew stronger. One thing that we never had to deal with was spending time apart. By the time that we moved to Philly in 2011, I believe the longest we had been apart from each other since Danya's move to Seattle was 10 days when I traveled to Israel on a Birthright trip. Moving to Philadelphia was a choice we made together. While we were happy to leave Seattle behind, I don't think we quite expected things to be the way they are today.
I remember back in April when I traveled to Providence on my first gig as a full-time freelancer, I wrote a status update on Facebook about missing my partner. He gave a supportive response and thrown in there was something along the lines of, "we are in a part-time long distance relationship." My heart sank into the pit of my stomach and I thought to myself, "how did I get here?" Once I came to terms with the fact that my current career track meant that we would be spending a lot of time apart, I started figuring out ways to help make myself feel close to Danya, even when I am halfway across the world searching for the Aurora Borealis.
My nightstand in Alaska
There are a handful of ways that one can make themselves feel closer to a loved one when they are too far to hold close. I am always sure to bring a photograph of my partner and myself together to put right next to my alarm clock. If I put it next to my alarm clock, it is usually the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing that I see before I go to sleep. I also bring an item that my partner gave me as a gift. For instance, I love to cuddle myself to sleep. When I crawl into bed and he isn't there, it is too easy to start feeling lonely. As ridiculous or childish as it may sound, Danya gave me the gift of a stuffed sock monkey awhile back. Whenever I spend more than a week away from home, I bring the stuffed animal along with me to cuddle with before I go to sleep. I've never been one to sleep with a stuffed animal and I don't keep one in my bed at home, but when I travel this sentimental item helps calm and relax me before I go to sleep. It isn't a replacement, but it is comforting to know that his spirit is there.
Another photo I bring wherever I travel
One issue I have is that I am a constant worrier and get really anxious about the possibility of things that could happen, even if that possibility is unlikely. My friends think its a part of my Jewish blood, but genetics or not I am always worried that certain things are going to happen, like losing touch. In order to calm my worries, Danya and I always develop a plan before I leave town. For instance, I am writing this blog from seat 15A on my way to spend 3 months in Anchorage dancing with Alaska Dance Theatre. To ensure that we stay in the best touch possible, we have developed a plan to talk every evening before Danya goes to sleep (there is a 4 hour time difference) and to Skype once every weekend. We keep this plan loose, in the event that we are just too busy to talk. But the important part of this plan is that we have set an intention. Even if we don't have much to share with each other, we still get on the phone and talk for a minute or two. When you are used to seeing one another every day, it is easy to get into free flowing conversation. But when you are apart, the conversation tends to focus on what you have done during your day. If there isn't much else to talk about, there is no need to sit in awkward silence waiting to stir up conversation. If we have a lot to talk about, we spend more time chatting. But on days where we have less to talk about, we sum up our day and say goodnight. There will be more to talk about tomorrow and its not worth stressing that we didn't have much to share. As for Skype, having a visual conversation helps make me feel better when we've been apart for too long. Although you can't touch each other, you can at least feel like you are in the same room.
One particular challenge that took a bit more thought was missing important holidays, dates, and events with one another. For instance, Danya and my anniversary is coming up in 9 days. We won't get to spend this important milestone together. To make sure that we don't miss out on this special occasion, we moved the date of our anniversary ahead ten days. Last night, we went out for a nice dinner and went out dancing afterwards. Although we can't spend our special day together, it doesn't mean that we can't move it and celebrate on another day. Coming up next is Valentine's day. We clearly can't spend this holiday together and it would be odd to celebrate our anniversary and Valentine's day a few days apart and nearly a month prior to the holiday. So, we have already planned to celebrate Valentine's day with a Skype dinner date. Having some facetime on a computer doesn't only have to involve sitting at a desk, staring at one another on a computer screen. We are both going to make our own dinner and buy a bottle of wine and sit down at a table and enjoy each others company over a meal. Again, although we can't touch each other, we can still have the experience of being together.
Dan climbing atop a mountain of snow at Portage Bay, AK
The final way that I combat the emotional strain of being apart for such a long period of time is by bringing my partner along with me. This is not always an option, perhaps due to time or money. Prior to every gig I do, I ask my host family or hotel if my partner can join me for a few days. I have never been told no, but if I was I would be more than willing to pay for a hotel. My partner and I have a rule that he has to come visit me in the middle of any gig that I do if it lasts longer than 3 weeks. I feel very lucky that Danya owns his own business (Spaces Transformed - Professional Organizer) and has more flexibility to travel. For instance, during the 3 months that I am away in Alaska, Danya will be joining me for 3 1/2 weeks, smack dab in the middle of the gig. This way we will spend a month apart, be together for a month, and then have another month before I return home. That sounds much better than 3 months of phone and Skype conversations. Since he owns his own business, he can work wherever his services are needed. His home and office organization business travels well and he is currently looking forward to working with clients in Alaska. I am very excited to have him enjoy this experience with me. It is almost like a mini-vacation/retreat.
Traveling while freelancing can make one feel lonely, moreso when you have to leave a loved one at home. Bringing sentimental items and photos, setting up phone and Skype dates, celebrating special days and holidays early and via skype, and bringing your partner along with you can make the distance more bearable. I love my partner and I love my job. I feel so lucky to have a partner that is so supportive of what I do that he is willing to let me leave home for, sometimes, months at a time. One thing that I was surprised to learn through all of this time apart is that the distance actually brings us closer. It brings about a stronger sense of appreciation, refreshment, and excitement when we are finally reunited again.
Savoring the moment and sharing a special dinner together
