MNCP- meltdown

Through the deep fog of slumber I hear my alarm sound. It’s morning. Everything aches, my head hurts and I want to wrap the blankets around my soul and hide. I haven’t cried yet, but I’m thinking I might be the only one. Maybe I should, hidden in my room, shielded from the day for a few more stolen moments. It was a rough night, and things could have been so much worse had I made semi-finals. Somewhere in the mayhem of sabotage, drama, and unattainable perfection I lost my phone. Fuck.

I doubt I’ll cry. I’m in caretaker mode, and there are too many girls that need support and help. Emotions are high, and the stress level is off the chart. I’ve seen the scores, and I know now that my show was good enough to make semi-finals, but drawing #1 on Monday hurt me. I could cry, but they would be tears of anger and frustration. Yes, I’m disappointed but I’m more concerned about the girls. I’m fucking pissed off at the lack of compassion and respect demonstrated by an arrogant individual. Someone is determined to make a point, and hurt as many people as possible in the process. Someone’s ego is willing to jeopardize the safety of over a dozen dancers just to make a point. Oil was poured in a fog machine. Pools were popped. Props disappeared. Oil could cause a dancer to slip and break an ankle, or worse fall off the pole. Sabotage is fucking pathetic. Endangerment is beyond forgivable.

I ran for hours, collecting props, organizing shows, and ensuring every girl had what she needed. Then I ran around again, checking on injuries, comforting disappointments, and providing interference through the chaos. Somehow it worked, and Ultimate Feature and her team held together the show. Pools were shared, comfort and hugs were plenty. The fantasy was maintained, and the deliberate attempts at destruction did not show on stage. We are professionals, and the show went on. They smiled, and danced, and did everything in their control to put on the best show. The shows were beautiful. There were tears across the board as the stress culminated into a 3am meltdown. Vibrating with anger and disbelief, we did our best to make it work. And then we all went home and collapsed. It was a rough night.

I have to convince my body to leave this bed, and face the day. It’s Saturday, and not only do we have finals to prepare for, we have repairs and investigations to do. It all has to be done in the next four hours, and we all have to be at the bar, perfect embodiments of stunning fantasies for a media meet and greet in six hours. I’d better get up.