You Are My Aneurysm
I've slept through breakfast. I didn't think it would happen - I woke up at the usual time (7) and then went back to much-needed sleep and now it's 9:15. I think I will stroll over to the Case Center (the student center, so unfortunately monikered as to make me feel like I'm at rehab, instead of a college) and see if the pay-your-way cafe is open. I don't want to rehearse on an empty stomach and I don't particularly wish to venture into town right now either. If only I had a bicycle.
Yesterday I had a brush with death while singing "You Are My Sunshine". We did stomping shakuhachi (without the shakuhachi) - for those who don't know, it's essentially three minutes of stomping to this very intense, rhythmic, Japanese, Pulp Fiction-esque soundtrack - and then we got into the basic 4 neutral position (a kind of squat, but with your center still engaged), stomped several times during the ridiculous midi introduction to "You Are My Sunshine", and then sang the first verse of the song in the 'neutral' position. Then we sang the chorus as we rose slowly in a kind of sunburst gesture, eventually to standing with our hands behind our heads, then the first verse again in that position, and then the chorus once more as we descended back into neutral.
The intense nausea and pounding, shooting, throbbing pain I felt in my neck and head is one I recognize only from the moment I tore my ACL and meniscus. I think I must have reached a point of extreme dehydration and somehow released a lot of toxins, because it took me about 45 minutes to recover. My mouth tasted of stomach acid. My head hurt like nothing I've experienced. I moaned in the hallway for a while. When I stepped into the viewpoints class I worked with the group, but I was like a walking ghost. Then, just as there had been a distinct moment where I transformed into an ailing zombie, there was a very clear point at which I recovered. Lots of water, an attempt at vomiting, and much ibuprofen later, I could feel the color return to my face. And then, interestingly, I felt fantastic for the rest of the day.
We practiced Suzuki again in the afternoon and did stomping with shakuhachi (a fall to the ground, rise on 30 count, and slow walk downstage to the sound of this flute [the shakuhachi]). I felt fear for the first time in this work. Not determination. Not excitement. Not hope. Fear. Genuine fear that I would not make it. That I was weak and couldn't do it. That I would be writhing in agony inside and have no external release. And at the end of the second stomping shakuhachi of the day, I felt strong. I wasn't in agony. And I think, then, I may not have pushed myself where I needed to go. Either that, or I really need(ed) that squat and "You Are My Sunshine" to plunge into the 7th level of hell. But, of course, it's possible that where I needed to go at 11 am was different from where I needed to go at 5 pm (with a lot more water and a lot less tea in my body).
Stomping Sunshine (that's what I'm calling it) scares me. I need to do it again.
I feel quite vulnerable, posting this stuff on a blog. I may need to take it down and keep it to myself for a while.