And last month, one of the leaders of local all-guy troupe Sirlesque posted on Facebook that they were looking for volunteers for one of their shows. I thought "Cool, I can go to a show for free!" and e-mailed the stage manager, whereupon I was told that there were three options: taking tickets, selling merch, and stage kittening.
I had a moment of "well, tickets, obviously" but then a moment of "wait! Year of Being Brave. Um. Kittening."
(What is stage kittening? In the course of a burlesque show, many items of clothing are shed and flung in various directions. After the routine is over, someone comes out and gathers everything up so the next routine can happen. That person is the stage kitten.)
So I arrived, reported to the stage manager, got my set list and tech sheets, and chatted with people. The #1 question was "Are we going to see you up there dancing sometime soon?" A natural question, given that that's a normal trajectory, from assisting to screwing up the courage to dance oneself. "Probably not!" I said, giving my usual and totally valid answer: my body is unreliable, and I wouldn't want to commit to a performance and have to pull out because my body did a weirdness.
And then OMG SHOW.
So let me tell you which skillsets surprise-intersected here. Because I find this fascinating - this has been a year of me being good at surprising things and realizing that that's so because of multiple skills that you wouldn't have guessed would equal anything in particular when put together.
1. I am a tiny human. 102 pounds right now, though 108 then (yeah, last week and stress nausea.) This means I can be incredibly compact and unobtrusive in the wings. The wings, at Club Cafe, are very tiny.
2. I have pretty much zero need for personal space in that sort of situation. Yeah, somebody's butt is pressed against me, but in a totally professional way!
3. Near-photographic spatial memory. Adam knows this superpower best, as he is always misplacing things.
"Where's my book?"
"I last saw it on top of the microwave half an hour ago."
"Why would I-"
"I don't know, but I refilled my coffee half an hour ago and that's where it was."
The coffeepot is nowhere near the microwave, but my brain clocks every single thing in the room and tags anything that's out of place. Not consciously, but if you ask me where in the house a thing is, I will know where it is. Unless someone put it back in the wrong place and I haven't been in the room since.
I keep forgetting that other people do not have this?
But that's why the stage manager was surprised that her brand-new kitten could collect all artfully-flung clothing in record time. Watch routine, clock where things land, plot course that allows for most efficient and unobtrusive collection of stuff, one trip around the stage and surrounding environs, done.
"You got everything?"
(They have another show at the end of the month and asked for volunteers again; I offered, and she said "you're a shoo-in!")
So, right, intersecting skillsets make me good at a thing, but what did I learn?
That, holy hell, I am more uncomfortable than ever with having a spotlight on me.
At one point in the show, the MC called attention to us and told the audience to thank us, and I had to go out and do a little curtsey, and I was like "ACK NO OKAY I AM SMILING BUT I WANT YOU TO IGNORE ME" and scampered back offstage as soon as I could. Ditto during the curtain call.
So I have been saying that I probably do not want to actually do burlesque as a dancer, and that really solidifies it. Because I loved kittening, but what I loved about it was that it hit all of my Making Things Go buttons, that I got to work backstage, that I got to help make a super-fun show happen...
But I really really just do not want anyone looking at me! (From the audience. Had fun goofing off with dancers.) I want to help as invisibly as possible.
That's a good thing to know! And it plays into my next post.