I don't WANT TO GO TO Juggling Club

Spinning fire fans at Clark park (photo by Vinny Gasper)

I am a performer, I suppose. First and foremost an artist, and even though as a performer I have taken place in a handful of significant events and shows, in front of decent crowds and even made money a few times... I know that I'm very much still a novice. In fact, for the number of years and the amount of time I've spent diligently practicing and rehearsing... I know, deep inside, that I could have been practicing more. And this makes me think of myself as much less of a performer.

It's not that I don't want to, or that I'm particularly lazy. Sometimes there are pretty good reasons, for example... the size of my apartment, while on the larger side, is full of furniture that tends to be placed in the middle of the room (bed, kitchen table, coffee table.) This rules out hula hooping, which was the first toy I started to play with. (There is a massive community of "hoopers" in Philadelphia, NYC, and the West Coast - and all over the country. These communities are everywhere now, but originally stemmed partially from hippie festivals and burner events.) I bought a hula hoop before I even knew anyone who "hooped." It was the wrong kind of hoop for doing tricks (I, not knowing there were even options, found a pretty inexpensive weighted "sport" hoop online in pink and purple Chesire cat-colored stripes.) I didn't know this, and also didn't care. Sure, I wanted to look fancy and cool while hooping, but it was just new and fun to me.

Moving to Philadelphia brought on a whole slew of extreme changes - suddenly I was immersed in a place where when I went to parties, there were not just a couple of people with hoops, but a whole shit ton of people with hoops. I was attending underground burner warehouse parties, but still. These girls (and some guys) had lighter hoops, LED glowing hoops, and fire hoops. They could swing them around their heads, hoop around their knees, necks, feet and chests, toss them in the air and god knows what else. I, suddenly self conscious and painfully aware, put down the hoop for awhile.

Luckily, a year or two later, some kind-hearted friends convinced me that I should get involved in this all-female group that was attempting to put on a show. I did, with some self doubt and hardships... but here I am today, with a variety of talents under my belt, although I still think none of them are as good as they could be, or should be.

I like to blame some of my resistance on my mental state. As in, my resistance to learning, my resistance to admit that I'm any good at what I'm doing. Early last winter I was diagnosed with clinical depression and I spent a good amount of time on medication, "fixing the problem." But I knew then that this tendency has always been with me. Emotional upset, depression, sadness, are part of my body and soul just the way everything else is - like being an artist, or being creative, or being a performer. Some days are still a battle, but I'm a fighter, and I'll fight this the rest of my life if I have to.

It makes sense to me that my uneasiness lies with performing instead of creating art. First and foremost - if 10 years ago you would have told me that I'd be up on a stage in front of a crowd of people, either dancing or eating fire, I would have laughed in your face. No. Freaking. Way. But I am, and I have, and without the crippling stage fright that I had as a child. So that in itself is an amazing feat... the uneasiness now lies in deciding what I want to invest my time in, especially when I feel like curling up in a ball in the winter and dying, not dancing...

Part of it is finding my unique performing identity, which takes time and I'm still in the beginning stages. I have had the most success - and loved performing the most - with bellydance, performing with my fire fans and palm torches, and have a successful burlesque act (performed three times so far) with a close friend. These are the things (like painting) that I feel successful at, and most confident doing.

With my homemade feather fans for burlesque

Working with the group of women that I do, some of them (and I don't mean to compare myself, but I am) are extremely talented at one or two things, maybe more... and take a more, "human trick" or, as we like to say, "Tech-ey" style. These are practiced, often difficult to learn tricks, with various objects (poi, hoop, fans, juggling, etc.) that when done right, are an amazing part of any fire or non fire performance. I personally, do not know very many tech-ey moves. It's not really my style, I guess, and that's fine. These methods also involve constant rehearsing and practicing. I find myself shying away from these events and activities. I also find myself wondering, sometimes, what I'm doing with all this - especially finding myself, this past year and now, sitting on the admin team with four other girls, wondering what authority I have to be sitting there? I'm not a classically trained dancer. I haven't been hooping for five years, professionally getting paid to do so for the past three. If anything, my talent lies in being able to do this stuff without heavy discipline and practice - as I catch myself, because that's not entirely true.

I have, indeed, spent many hours devoting practice and rehearsal time when there was a good reason to. Development of a piece, or a show coming up. It's my drive to rehearse just for fun that I lack, just because I want to learn new moves and new things. I do want to learn... I'm pretty sure I do, anyway. Something about the winter, something about now, in my hermitude... I feel out of place, like I don't belong in this, like I can't do anything anyway.

You know how I learned to "dance"? Sure, I took ballet and other dance classes when I was young - very young. And never did anything else, and was scared to even speak in front of an audience in English class. I learned to dance when I started going to clubs once I was old enough. And then, raves. Drugs + drinking + music = Xtina learned how to dance. And I love to dance. Nothing makes me feel more alive, more free. Maybe that is just where my performance self lies... not with hoops, and fuck you, I am not going to juggling club - but with where I started. Dancing, dancing, dancing the night away.