Petal Pusher

I’m happy the dance company’s season has ended. There, I said it. I’m never one to have the post-show depression of which our director, Eric Yow, speaks. I experience post-show delight. I guess it’s because I apply deadlines to everything. The magazine industry will do that to you. And college. That, and a series of unfortunate and fortunate events.

I always look forward to taking a break from one project to work on another entirely different one.

On the Yow Dance blog, I repeated that I was only in the first two numbers in the Fringe performance in my post “The Truth About Cuts and Cogs.” And the tone of my ramble apparently sounded somewhat desperate. My phone blew up with calls from my parents and close friends who read it.

But I need to be clear about this, mainly to calm my parents’ nerves. I wasn’t being punished for anything; I hadn’t “lost it.” It was my doing. I had schedule conflicts and my commitment to the company dropped down from three nights a week for three hours a night to only one night a week for rehearsals for the past two months. Because I had to. Because I had to.

I won’t lie, it was tough sitting backstage or in the dressing room writing or reading or working on projects I’d brought with me from work while sweaty, half-naked and naked heaving bodies scurried around me to frantically change costumes for each number. An already broken spirit was crushed when I had to wait an hour to bow and in the meantime fulfill my roles of petal pusher and costumer.

Did I say my spirit was broken?

When it was time to bow, I took a deep breath, smiled through my false spirit eyelashes and ruby lips and humbly took my place in line as I exhaled: “This season is over.”

Photo by Selena Moshell (

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