Friday, December 11, 2015

The Story Of How I Came To Hate Light Bulbs

Hey peoples...I've been having a really bad day...also, I've discovered a newfound hatred for light bulbs, especially shattered ones on stages.

WARNING: long post coming your way

So...for those of you who don't know, I dance...I specialize in Chinese Dance (extra lessons on weekends, and the tuition could easily reach a few thousand dollars), but because I love dance so much, I'm taking a senior dance course in school as well, I'm also involved in a dance club...yay me...

So...this Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, I've had a total of five dance shows, one on Wednesday, two on Thursday and two on Friday.  The first four were during school, so I got to miss a lot of classes (read: I missed quite a few tests and quizzes, so I'll have to make them up...which leaves me more time to study!), and the last one was a night show (7pm).

I may have bitten off more than I could chew this time...I had so many costume changes (and for some routines, I had approximately fifteen seconds to change), so many different hairstyles to do, and routines to remember.  I also had to memorize which costume (don't go thinking costume is simple, it includes shoes, clothes, hair, make up, and accessories!  Oh...the possible mistakes I could make) goes with which choreography...

My first dance was a tap routine (gold sequined dress with black tank top underneath), then I had to rush out, take off my tap shoes and prepare for my ballet routine.  After that, I had to make a mad dash to whip off my dress, don a gold buttoned up jacket, and accessorize myself with a golden hat (I have to do all that in about eight seconds...) for my Broadway routine. 

My next routine is lyrical contemporary (Song: Manhattan, costume: magenta dress), and it gives me much more time to change (thank goodness), and finally, I have about six minutes to take off my dress, and whip on my sassy jazz costume ( described this costume as "sexy", and's short, and black...) for my last routine (song: New Dorp, New York).

Manhattan by Sara Bareilles
 New Dorp, New York

You think I have it bad?  I know this girl who is in at least three more routines than me...she doesn't even bother changing in a locked room like I do (hey, I'm a very reserved person who cares very much about exposing as little skin as possible), she changes in a makeshift change room WITH NO LOCK, I don't know HOW she does it...I need to run to the washroom and wait for a stall (with a lock), before I can change.

The first few performances were uneventful...the second last one and the last one...not so much.  In the second to last one, my old elementary school was in the audience, and I really wanted to make them proud.  Unfortunately, during the first dance, one of the moving curtains caused a loose/spare light bulb to fall and shatter on the stage.  DO YOU REALIZE HOW DANGEROUS THIS IS? 

The stage crew members took out their janitor looking mop and tried to sweep around the dancers (which looked pretty hilarious in retrospect)

I finished the first three dances without getting glass in my foot, but I heard that some people stepped on stray pieces of glass, although no harm was done.

In my contemporary routine, I was doing fine until somewhere in the last minute, I felt some small speck dig into my left foot.  Now, I had my I did what I thought a stupid person would do and tried to subtlety rub off the speck that was most likely a shattered light bulb piece.  After two failed attempts [and also detrimental actions (I think) toward my routine],  I decided to just try my best to dance as didn't really hurt that much anyway.

It was only after I left the stage and inspected my foot did I find a bloody foot that was dripping blood...I might have left a blood trail... can imagine my horror, right? 

I am very, very sensitive to pain.  I kid you not, I scream every time I get a paper cut (the antiseptic rubbing alcohol kills me every time).

So...I told one of my group members who were almost equally shocked, and they told me to alert the dance teacher and stage crew members immediately...but being the shy and soft spoken person I am...I hesitated...thankfully, my group made a big enough commotion that they attracted them over.

I was asked to sit in a chair while stage crew called for first aid (office secretary).  By this time, I was absolutely terrified, and my foot had begun shaking...minutes later, the first aid person arrived and started to tend my wound. 

After cleaning it with antiseptic, sixteen times too many, the first aid person tried (and failed) to get the piece of glass that was lodged in my foot, out.  It.  Was.  Painful. 

In hindsight...I feel I was making a much bigger fuss than necessary.  I mean, I was all tensed and clenched up, and my foot was shaking uncontrollably (I really couldn't stop it, believe me, I tried), people probably thought that I was just trying to get attention (which I'm not!  I promise!).  Yes, I could have held in many of my outward reactions...but...sigh.  Suffice to say, I was angry and deeply ashamed with myself for not keeping myself in check....I should have just kept it all in, no need to make a big deal out of it...what was I thinking?  What is wrong with me...?!

Also...did I mention a large group of dancers were crowding around me?  And while I had my hands on my eyes and trying to cover the nasty view of my bloody foot, I heard someone say "Oh, she's crying"  BUT I WASN'T, OK?!  Ick...

So...after several failed attempts at trying to get the glass out (with me being a horrible patient because I was constantly worried that the longer it takes to get it out, the higher my chances of contacting flesh eating disease will be**), the first aid person gave up and told me to go to the doctor where they can open up my foot peel back/off some of my skin in order to get the glass out.  They would also give me anaesthetics so that it wouldn't be so painful.
**you know what's a bad combination?  Being sensitive to pain and being a germaphobe (I believe the more technical term is mysophobia).  Every time I get cut, I have this mental debate to see if it's worth enduring the pain to cleanse the wound... 

The first aid attendant bandaged me up with this ring to help keep pressure off of it, and one of the stage crew members gave me her phone so that I could call home. 

I called home and explained to my mom what happened...being the kind of mother that she was, she started chastising me about not being careful, and how I was always so blind and clumsy...this was when a few tears may have escaped my eyes...I wanted this to be one of the best performances since my old school was watching...but I failed them...I failed my routine (by trying to brush the shard of glass off instead of just leaving it there until after the routine like a good dancer), and coupled with the fact that my mom wasn't helping at all...I was just...sad.
***also, I worked hard for these shows!  I had practices as early as 8am in the morning (not a morning person), or as late as 6pm, and rehearsals that took several hours which left me starving by the end of it.  You can't blame me for being upset at not being able to dance because I messed up, and just so happened to step on a stray piece of glass...

So, after I was all bandaged up, I proceeded to alternate between hopping on one foot around the school and walking with my balance kept on the outer edge of my injured foot.  After awhile, I had to take a break because putting so much pressure on such a precarious position was...hard...not to mention painful...

There I was...instead of going straight to the main entrance to meet my mom, I decided to do the smart thing (I think) this time, and alert all my teachers about my upcoming absence.  I first hopped to my biology teacher and told him I might not be able to make it to my make up test afterschool (I missed a test due to my performance the day before), then I hopped to my math teacher and asked him for homework, and finally, I hopped to my socials teacher to tell her I wouldn't be able to make it for the socials test next block because I'd be in medical care...

Of all days to be injured, today was a bad choice....a socials test, a biology test, and I also had an arranged meeting with my French group members.  We were supposed to film our French play today after my biology test.  Siiiiigh...did I mention how many flights of stairs I had to go up and down (I'm horribly inefficient like that)?  Of course there was the elevator...but was reserved for people in wheel chairs and people who had to move big, the thought did cross my mind, but I thought to myself: I needed the exercise, I'm overweight anyways... many people asked if I needed assistance...from holding my stuff, to alerting my teachers of my would-be absence (all of which I refused, of course, I don't want to inconvenience anyone, I'm sure they have enough stress of their own), this guy even walked next to me as I hoped down the stairs in case I fell or needed help, which was really sweet, but kinda freaky.

So...after all that hopping, I hopped to my final destination: my locker, and dropped off my stuff then hopped my way to the front entrance to wait.

Oh!  I forgot to include that while I was hopping everywhere, pretty much everyone I passed asked, "are you ok?", I was touched, really. 

Frankly, I didn't realize so many people cared...and I honestly thought I had no friends (ok, so maybe this is my fault since I have to have this conversation before I believe we are actually "friends".  I believe I may have mentioned this conversation here).  I truly felt like...I don't know...but it was a nice feeling, having people worry enough to ask...but after being asked a few bazillion times...I started to sound like a broken replies were either: I'm fine, or I'll be fine...or something along those lines.

So...I waited...and waited...finally, my dad came, and he drove me to...a medical place, and we waited...and waited...then my mom showed up...
*just, FYI, I was still in my costume, so...I'm pretty sure people thought I was crazy, or really wanted to show off...sigh

Now, my parents were in the middle of a long argument that started a few weeks ago, so guess what I was forced to listen to while I waited...and waited at the medical place...?  My parents' argument...sigh...the day just got worse.

After I was taken into a room and told to I waited...and waited...until finally, a doctor came in and did unimaginably painful things to my foot.  I probably made a lot of strange noises (it was super duper painful, OK?!).  After several failed attempts with the tweezers, he said he was going to get some sort of a anaesthetic for me...meaning...needles...aah!

He tried a few more times without the needle (more pain for me...yay...), and miraculously...HE GOT IT OUT! 


Yes, it was very, very agonizingly painful...but...I survived!

After eating some food (because I was starving after such an arduous day and painful ordeal), I decided that instead of going home to rest, I would make another smart decision (I think) and go back to school.  After I missed my socials test, of course...

I arrived back in school just in time for my last class of the day.  I tried to do some work, but the teacher and supervisors insisted I just sit and read/study.  I refused, and one of the supervisors had the nerve to say they'd tie me to a chair and lock the door...gosh...can you believe these people...?!  I wanted to help...!

So...after much deliberation, they found a task for me that they assured themselves wouldn't be too taxing for me....heh...whatever I could do to help...but secretly...I thought they gave me the useless jobs because they felt guilty...

After my last class of the day, I limped around school because I forgot to ask my bio and socials teachers some questions...grr.

So case you were wondering, I decided to make it back for my bio test and my French filming...I wouldn't dare let dare my group...I also...didn't want to listen to my parents argue anymore...

Also, did I forget to mention that people were still asking me how I was doing, and if I was okay?  Apparently, news does spread like wildfire, because the whole school knew.  The whole school knew that there was a girl in the dance show that stepped on glass and had a bloody foot to contend with.

This guy even came up to me and asked, "are you the girl who stepped on glass?"...pfft, like I'd intentionally stepped on glass...but aaaanyways...they all knew about my accident, I could see the pity in their eyes...

Some people even patted me on the head...!

I made a last stop at my dance teacher's studio to ask if she would still allow me to dance in the night show...I mean, I wanted to dance, to prove that I'm okay (even if it means I'll have to smile through the intense pain I would be experiencing), but if the teacher thinks that an injured dancer with bandage on her feet would make the dance look awry (all dancers were supposed to be in uniform, no dancer should look different), and said dancer would mess up the show...then...who am I to insist that I should be able to dance in the show...?

Thankfully, she said yes, and also praised me on my determination as a dancer, among many other praises, which, I'm not going to lie, made my heart soar with happiness.

So...I went to take my biology test and after I was finished, I went to the place where my French group arranged to meet.  I waited...and waited...finally this guy comes and tells me we got an extension so there is no need to rush...aaaargh!  I memorised my lines last night, when I could have been studying for my tests instead...grr...!

Half an hour before the night show started, I started to change into my first costume, and people were still asking me if I was okay and if I was still going to dance.  Well...I'd look at them, then I'd look at my costume clad self, and pointedly look at them and hope they got the hint.  Sometimes, I'd just say I'm fine, or no, I'm not, but I will bear the pain anyway.  I got a lot of unwarranted hugs as well...I just had a piece of glass imbedded in my foot, no big deal, right?  Regardless, people were calling me brave, and a hero...and the stage crew was apologising to me profusely...this girl even said "bless your soul, child", or something like that...

Before the show, I went onstage to practice dancing in my bandages, because the floor was frighteningly now, not only was I worried I'd step on another stray piece of glass, but I was also afraid I'd slip and embarrass myself further. Oh, the things I do for dance...

The teacher notified me of the fact that after I left, they swept the stage a billion times, and washed it, too.  But of course, I was still worried. 

During the actual show, while I was waiting backstage, I was sooooo very scared.  Not of the immense pain I would most likely encounter (oh, here's a fact, where the shard of glass pierced my foot was the same foot that had a nasty blister from my barefoot dances from the day before, and it was also the exact place where I would need to put all my weight to do pirouettes, piques, and chaines (?) turns, lucky me...), but of the possibility of being impaled with another piece of glass, or slipping on stage because of the slippery gauze.  So, I attempted some mindful breathing, along with a prayer or two...okay, maybe sixteen....

The first three dances were uneventful, which was great!  Granted, I was a bit unstable on my feet, but nothing too obvious...well yes, I would have liked the audience to know that a dancer (me) who's  had years and years of professional dance training wouldn't be so off balance, but...oh well. 

Ugh...also...the dangers of doing back bends and splits in various positions with an injured foot...bah...I'm going to regret it tomorrow morning...

Despite my injured foot, I was still running around, scrambling to meet the demanding costume change times...and gah!  Everywhere I went, I could hear people whispering about how sorry they felt for me...

After the first dance, people were still asking, "can you dance", so I sometimes replied with, "we will see...", or "let's find out..."...gosh...I was really getting tired of all this attention and repetitive questions...I was seriously overwhelmed with all the concern people were showing...some guys even hugged me...hugged realize how awkward that is for me, right...?  Me, someone who doesn't socialize, and always keeps to herself...?

My contemporary dance...well, I tried my best not to show my worry...this was the dance that ruined me...but thank goodness there was no more glass.  Woo!

Finally, my last dance (sassy jazz) went smoothly, and after the final bow, I was done at last.

I survived!  And people were still asking me if I was okay...well, hmm, if I can dance, I'm pretty sure I'm okay...but I was so overjoyed at the lack of eventfulness that I honestly didn't care about repetitive questions anymore...the only thing that kept me from absolute and utter happiness parents...sigh...why do they always have to bring me into their fights...siiiigh, anyways, I'll try not to mention too much more of it on this post. conclusion to this very long, and quite unnecessary post: December 11, 2015, was not a happy day for me.  One very despised light bulb decided to commit suicide on the wrong day, at the wrong time, in the wrong place.  It's actions caused much hatred in me because of the mass consequences that resulted, especially for me.  Additionally, the fact that my parents thought that arguing was more important than watching my dance show, and this other event that broke my heart and kept pestering me in the back of my mind made it even more unbearable.  Oh well...without bad days, I can't appreciate the good ones, right?

Have you ever been physically hurt very badly?  Are you as sensitive to pain as I am?  Or are you as invincible to pain  as how I wish I could be?


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