Finding your comforts in a hotel

Unless you live and freelance only in New York City, a majority of the freelancing that dancers do takes them away from home. Sometimes, you will stay with a host family. At other times, like I am right now, you will be put in a hotel for weeks at a time. While staying in a hotel sounds fun, exotic, and vacation-like, it can leave you feeling quarantined from society and lonely. To fend off these feelings, I have compiled this list of things you can do to find your creature comforts and to feel like you are still an active part of society.

- Sitting in a hotel in a suburban location can become a redundant experience. It is easy to get stuck in boring patterns due to an inability to get around much on your own. Try changing up your routine. Eat out some days, eat in others. Call an old friend that you haven't talked to for a long time to reconnect. Take a bath. Use the pool or hot tub. Watch TV. Schedule a movie night and rent a pay-per-view movie. Interact with the hotel staff. Go for a walk. Try to get out of your mundane patterns and do something different every day.

I went for a short drive along Lake Ontario before rehearsal

- Staying at a hotel rarely allots you a stove or a microwave to prepare your own meals. This usually leads to one of the least comfortable situations for many people. Eating alone at a restaurant. When I first started writing this post, I was doing exactly this. I walked into the restaurant and the host insisted that I would probably enjoy (or...erm...feel more comfortable) eating at the bar. But I wanted to sit at a nice table in the main dining area...by myself. Then, when my server walked up to me, he stated, "you must be waiting for a pretty lady." He must have missed the memo, or multiple memos. Any newbie at eating alone might have felt embarrassed or extremely awkward in this situation, but after a few years on the road I am a pro at eating alone. Bring a book or newspaper. Bring your smart phone and catch up on social media or download a new game to play. Or, like me, bring a pen and paper to journal, log, blog, or anything else that you would like to document or write about. A nice glass of wine will help relax your discomfort, too. Or just sit back, breath, and take in the characters sitting around the restaurant having dinner. I always find great entertainment watching how locals interact with one another.

My items from home

- For me, one of the least comfortable things about staying in a hotel is the sterility and impersonal feeling that most rooms share. You don't have any personal home-y touches. You didn't decorate the room. What I always try to do is to bring a few things from home that make me feel like I am closer to home. It would weigh your luggage down if you carried your favorite piece of artwork. What I do is carry a very few lightweight items with me. I always bring one or two unframed 4x6 photos with me to decorate the room and remind me of loved ones. The pictures tend to get beat up a bit, but they still make me happy. I also have a stuffed sock monkey that my partner gave me as a gift. Yeah, I'll admit that I sleep with it. I haven't slept with a stuffed animal since I was 4 years old. But, only when I am traveling, I sleep with this stuffed creature.

- I always go on an extensive search for new music on ITunes in the days before departing for a gig. That way I have some new music to go along with my old music. I have an IPhone, which has a speaker loud enough for me to listen to music. But if you don't have a phone with these capabilities, consider buying cheap, portable speakers that connect either to your computer or MP3 device. I know I am late to the game, but I have also recently discovered the joys of Pandora. You can type in your favorite artist, song, or genre of music and it plays random songs, like a personalized radio station, for free. I feel music drowns out the stifling silence of sitting in a hotel room.

- One of my biggest issues when staying at a hotel is that I get lonely. After a long day at work, dancers often want to vegetate and rest their body and mind for the next day. It isn't uncommon for dancers to reject invitations to hang out. Sometimes, it is necessary to fight the urge to act like a hermit and enjoy some company. While an invitation from a co-worker may not always sound enticing at first, most of the time you end up enjoying yourself more than you would have staying by yourself in your room. Getting out and being around people will not only keep you company, but it will forge new friendships and relationships.

- You won't have the luxury of having a DVR to record and watch your favorite television shows when you are at a hotel. Sometimes, the wireless doesn't always work well enough to download video. In the worst of situations (for me at least), there is no internet. Always come prepared with a handful of your favorite DVD's. I always bring a few seasons of different TV series on DVD of my favorite shows; like American Dad, It's Always Sunny, and South Park. I like to take a relaxing bath for my muscles, pop a DVD in my computer, and have a good laugh.

- One of my biggest mental comforts is having access to a gym. The gym is an important part of my daily routine at home. What does one do if there is no gym at their hotel or affordable gym options nearby? This one is hard for me. I tend to associate my place of rest, whether it be my home or a room with a bed, with nothing other than that. I can tell myself that I will work out at some point, but it becomes very difficult once I sit down and start to relax. I find that when I wait until later in the day, this effect gets even worse. So, I have created a set of exercises that simulate what I would do in my regular gym workout. And while I despise them, I can do them all without any equipment that I use in my regular routine. I find if I do these exercises earlier in the day, prior to class or rehearsal, I am more likely to complete them. If I wait until afterwards, I do exactly what is supposed to be done in your bedroom. Rest.

- I always make sure to show up to a gig with a task to complete that doesn't have to be finished by the time I leave. You never know how much free time you will have and it is better to have a backup plan if you have no other options. For instance, my current task that I hope to complete during my time preparing and performing the Cavalier in The Nutcracker with Rochester City Ballet is to start compiling a list of ballet companies and Broadway shows that I find interesting. I have slowly been gathering information to help clarify the next step of my career. While I am lucky to have friends here from last year and a car to drive myself around, there are still times where I find myself pent up in my hotel room. This is one way to be proactive in my down-time and to occupy hours sitting in my room.

Glad to be back in the studio at RCB rehearsing with my Sugar Plum, Jessie Tretter

Have I Been Forgotten?

Avenue of the Arts & City Hall - Philadelphia - My morning walk to open class

After nearly 7 months away, I can't even begin to explain how exciting it was for me to return home to Philly. Not only was I thrilled to see my partner and be in my own space, I was excited to see my cats, walk down familiar streets, and sleep in my own bed. Another rousing prospect high on my list was seeing all of my friends that were eagerly awaiting my return home. The day before I embarked on my 3 month tour to Alaska, a large group of about 20 friends gathered with me at a local pub. Last week, when I posted on Facebook that "I.....AM.....HOME", I was expecting the same reception that I received when I left. Alas, I got three responses. My sister said, "yay," my mom said, "woo hoo," and one Philly-based friend responded, "welcome home." And although about 15 people liked my status update, only 3 were local friends. As the next few days passed, I anxiously awaited phone calls, texts, and messages that somebody wanted to hang out with me. One or two came, but, other than that, it has generally been crickets. Then reality started to set in. I had been away for nearly 7 months with only a short break between gigs. Had I been forgotten?

To answer this question, I feel that I need to look all the way back to my childhood. I remember around the age of 13, I decided to dedicate myself to this crazy art of dance. I remember aching inside, I wanted it so badly. I didn't know exactly what was aching and I had an amorphous idea of what I wanted, but I ached for some sort of success and notoriety. As the years progressed, a small handful of students at my home dance studio, Chester Valley Dance Academy, convinced the director to add a Friday night ballet class. We didn't care that all of our peers were going to parties, seeing the newest blockbusters, and having youthful romances. All we knew was that we wanted another chance to dance, no matter the social consequence. Yes, we missed those occasions and, yes, we missed many more. But that little hurt that we did feel was covered up by our successes. We got into summer programs, we won awards at competitions, and we got to travel more than those sitting next to us in English class.

Once I moved on from my home studio, I was thrown into an environment with dozens of dancers, instead of four, just like me. We had made mature sacrifices as mere children. We passed on integral social building parts of our childhood to do something fascinating. We didn't care if we missed prom. We didn't care if we got made fun of for being men and dancing. We didn't care if our friends slowly started to drift away because we were always at dance. Finally, we had entered an environment with kids like us. At the Kirov Academy of Ballet, it was impossible to not become close to your peers. We lived, danced, ate, and received our academic education all in the same building. There was no need to turn down friendship for dance because we were always together in everything we did. But once we graduated, some dancers got contracts, some went to college, and others quit dance altogether and we scattered across the country like pigeons searching for breadcrumbs. We had to start the process all over again. Yes, we finally had solid friendships, just none of them lived close enough to hang out.

Reuniting w/suitemates from SAB 10 years later - Me (PNB), Jermel Johnson (PA Ballet), Andrew Scordato (NYCB)

Most dancers finally begin to have a solid social life once they join a company. This is when one usually settles down in one place for an extended period of time. Aside from befriending colleagues, being an independent adult allows you to pick and choose friends outside of dance who are fine with the oft erratic schedule of a dancer. Once I lived in Seattle for a long enough period of time, I had a solid group of friends in and out of dance. At that point, I felt that all of the sacrifices from my childhood paid off. I had the best of both worlds; my success as an artist and the social life that I had passed on years before. Then I decided to make a career change and moved away from that social atmosphere that had become an integral part of my young adult life.

Moving is almost always traumatic. Aside from relocating and adjusting to a change of environment, you need to find a new base of support. Unfortunately, my work takes me away from home for weeks and months at a time. I am lucky that my partner is mostly stationed in Philly throughout the year and has developed his own base of friends. Whenever I return home from a gig, he sits me down and reads a long list of people that are very excited to finally meet me. This is really nice and I always enjoy his new friends. For me, though, I feel that I have only acquired what is mostly panning out to be acquaintances with great potential. Now don't get me wrong, I have made some good friends in Philadelphia and I do have great relationships in the suburbs from my childhood. But for the most part, it is nearly impossible to cultivate caring, understanding, and mutual friendships when I am always picking up and leaving right as things start to blossom. It makes complete and total sense to me that I have these banging send offs and disappointing returns.

When I experience disappointment, I try to turn the tables and look at things from an outside perspective. Going through this process over the last week, I have come to realize a few things. The first being that it is not uncommon for people to latch onto me quickly. I am quite outgoing and friendly, which generally makes me easy to approach. Most non-dancers initially seek my friendship because of their intrigue in me as a dancer. I find that people seek to know the professional side of me before the personal. It takes awhile for acquaintances to really get to know me on a more personal level, which is truly when the friendship starts. I have to spend time cultivating potential friends to look at me as a person that dances instead of only as a dancer. This usually takes multiple, frequent encounters. Unfortunately, my work schedule doesn't allow that pertinent relationship building time. So, most of the people I meet feel a great connection to me that is easily pushed to the side after I leave town.

Along the same note, I have to remind myself of the well-known idiom, "Out of sight. Out of mind." When you don't see somebody with a hint of regularity, it is easy to forget about your relationship with that person. This is human nature, therefore removing the personal blame from either side of the equation. If an important connection hasn't been cultivated, one can't be held accountable for moving on to more important relationships in their lives.

Keeping the above in mind, I came to realize that I must accept some of the blame in my feelings of being disregarded. When I travel, I must adjust to a new environment. I have to learn the layout of the city, meet new colleagues, and find enough time to rest from all of the hard work I put in. When I come home from a long day in the studio, I am more likely to draw a bath and pour a glass of wine than I am to call or message a new friend. At the very moment that I started to feel bitter towards the lack of excitement in my return, I had to look at myself and accept that I put very little effort into cultivating something that I shouldn't expect as a given.

Once I got over the fact that nobody was calling me, I started contacting people. And as I have slowly started adjusting to being home and begun returning to my routine, I have run into some of the people that I had hoped would reach out to me. Each one of them has responded with the same excitement that they had when I left. It must be kept in perspective that, as I do when I get busy, people don't necessarily forget about you when you aren't around. Just because somebody hasn't contacted you, doesn't mean that they don't care about you anymore or that you haven't crossed their mind. Essentially, I am surrounded by successful adults that are just as busy as I am. They probably feel the same way about me that I felt about them. If one offers a gentle reminder that they have returned, they will get a better response than they would if they egotistically waited around for everybody else to make initial contact.

With this new mindset, I don't feel as forgotten as I did just days ago. Being a freelancer, we are lucky that we get to make friends everywhere that we go. While most adults stay in one place and cultivate their one group of friends, I have the privilege of traveling the world and making friends in each city that I travel. While there isn't always sheer excitement each time I come and go, there is often excitement everywhere I go. It is actually a privilege to have friends wherever I travel. This must not be taken for granted. When I finally decide to settle down and slow the pace of my freelancing, I can be more concerned about having a solid social group at home. And to be completely honest, if I am to be forgotten, it can't really be all that bad. I survived these feelings as a teenager. So I can surely live a happy life with these feelings as an adult. Not much has really changed since I was a devoted teenage dance student passionate about my art.