your questions!

answered!!!

We are all something, but none of us are everything.- Blaise Pascal:

rox n roll.

In honor of the Rockette Auditions going on in NYC this week...my own. Working on building more dance stories into my book, it's weird how I have such an easy time writing about the state of my heart and such a hard time writing about the state of my feets. hmmmm.



Each day when I walked to take class at Broadway dance center on 57th street I would look down 5th avenue and see the beautiful Radio City Marquee staring back at me. Art deco in design the large silver structure sat famously sticking its fabulousness into the street. The history behind Radio City Music Hall was epic. Build in the 1930’s by the Rockefeller's, not only was it an iconic structure that housed some of the most famous events of the century, but it was home to the world famous Radio City Rockettes. There Rockettes are the most famous dance company in the world, a legacy that had been around for over 75 years. The Rockettes had started as the Missouri Rockets in the 1930’s and then moved to Radio City and became the Rockettes shortly after. They would perform in between movie showings inside radio city, and every christmas season would star in their own show, the Radio City Christmas spectacular. The Rockettes were known for being the most beautiful, talented, precision dancers in the world. Their famous “eye high kicks” were known the world over. When I thought about the Rockettes I compared them to landing on the moon. I knew it was possible, I was almost completely certain that I would never do it in my lifetime. I saw nothing in myself that the posters staring back at me showed. I was not glamorous, I was not beautiful, I was not perfect. Women like this existed but I most certainly wasn’t one of them.

So, needless to say it took a ton of courage for me to show up a few months later at the Radio City Rockettes open call auditions. I had read about them in the dance trade paper and had packed up my tap shoes, favorite bodysuit and red lipstick in hopes that I was completely wrong about myself. When I walked that familiar street the morning of the audition I was overwhelmed, the line of Rockette hopefuls wrapped around the entire city block on 51st street, twice. Everywhere I looked, tall, beautiful, red lipped beauties stood waiting nervously head shots in hand for their chance to impress. There must have been over 700 girls in line. Everything inside me wanted to turn and run the other way. Somehow I managed to get in that line, and eventually into the large rehearsal hall inside the church of dance, Radio City Music hall. In groups of one hundred we were lead into the hall, we were measured, prodded at and lined up. Once inside the large rehearsal hall I managed to take my under confident eyes off the group and look around. I was awe struck. Everywhere were iconic photographs of the worlds most famous dancers. I do not remember what happened in the next hour but I do know that at some point I did some jazz, I did some tap and I got cut. As I grabbed my dance bag, girls everywhere were crying, complaining in their disdain for being cut. I was smiling. I was not disappointed, I was still completely awestruck that little old me had even set foot inside such a special place. I wanted to touch the walls, I wanted to smell the carpet. I wanted to never leave this magical place and wondered how long I could stand staring before someone kicked me out. Eventually someone did, but after that day that being a Rockette was my destiny. I could taste the words Rockette when I ate, I dreamed time-steps when I slept. The next round of auditions was only a few months away and I would be ready. I began an intense training regime of tap classes, workouts and research. I had a custom yellow leotard made so I would stand out. I started telling people, I am going to be a radio city rockette.
So a few months later I returned to Radio City and I danced like my life depended on it. I shuffled, balchanged and kicked with every ounce of courage I could. I was the best version of my dancer self I had ever been. Weeks later, when I was sitting in my childhood bedroom after I had gone home to visit my family and Radio City Entertainment called, my mom and I cried tears of joy when they invited me to be a part of the world famous Rockette line. I had done it. Little itybity Keltie, with the mediocer talent and the relentless dedication.

I spent that Christmas learning to be a Rockette. I cried the first time I walked onstage in my parade of the wooden soldier's costume. I worked so hard I lost 10 pounds. I gained 10 blisters, one on each toe, 20 new best friends and a list of 130 new things that were totally wrong about the way I danced from the directors of the show that somehow always seemed to be yelling some sort of correction in my direction. It was the happiest I had ever been in my life. My contract lasted 10 magical weeks and when it was over I went back to queens, and back out on tour with a totally different type of show, and I fell deeply in love with my very first rock star.

i hate.

did you ever stop to think that maybe I am 1000% happier too?

just imagine for one moment that the world wasn't one big competition who is happier than who, who is prettier than who and who is more talented than who?

what if we just loved freely and gave everyone the chance to be the very best that they can be- at whatever it is that they love the most?

I like this idea.

Sometimes it depresses me to think that when someone wins that someone else has to lose. Why? Why cannot we all find our little corners of the world where we belong, where we feel our best, where we love our best, where we give our best hugs. Follow me there.

Maybe you think that because I am alone that I am lonely. I am not. I am whole. So you can try to sensationalize this story into something relevant but the bottom line is, no one has to lose if everyone has love in their heart. Quit the negative shit. I doesn't look good on you.

I know you never meant to, but you did.

behind the scenes

Last month I acted as Choreographer/movement coach for Miranda Cosgrove on her video "Kissin U". Found this delicious behind the scenes video from that shoot. You can totally see me (maroon leather coat) working with Miranda from behind the camera. She was fabulous. Enjoy!!

Miranda Cosgrove - Kissin U - Behind The Scenes
- Watch more Music Videos at Vodpod.

The day I almost met and fell madly in love with Matt Nathanson

(yes it was thumbs up awesome)



Hi. It is April something two thousand and ten. I am writing from LAX. Flying home to YEG. Edmonton. Nothing special. I spend most of my free time waiting in airports to fly somewhere. I am wearing what I almost always wear when I fly. Black leggings, black tunic, giant yellow carti, scarf and my fav free people boots. Today I magically wore my one very special single super long feather earring. I thought this morning as I got dressed “Should I wear my magical feather today? I might lose it. I might ruin it. I might break it.” There was no reason to look overly cute at LAX, and on the other end is my mother who, has to love me no matter what even when I am ugly.

But something deep down inside me (aka.ghost of Matt nathanson) told me- Wear your feather. Just like that my luggage, my feather and myself were off to LAX.

While at LAX I bought the biggest diet coke I could find and sat on the floor. My best friend boobs called me and I told her the story of my date last night.

I was on a date last night and in the middle of dinner I straight up said to the fella. If I choose to be in a relationship with you (which I won’t. total dud. see reason below) I need an out. If I ever get the chance to have an epic stay up all night listening to portishead +drinking tea + smelling like fresh shower and nivea make out session with Matt Nathanson. I need you to be okay with that. I need to be able to do that. Date did not think that was okay. (see? dud.) He said, if you are going to do it. Do it now. Trust me dudface, I totally would if I could.

Fast Forward back to LAX. Back to extra special earring. Back to phone convo. End Phone convo. Dude in red shirt at the gate gives me sex eyes and I notice he is wearing a giant sparkly diamond earring in one ear. It is not 1996 dude, N'sync and all its fashion is O-V-E-R. Unless of course, Matt Nathanson wanted to wear a giant sparkly earring in one ear, then it would be the hottest thing ever and I would totally gnaw on that sexbomb of a cubic zirconia.

So I am sitting at the gate and I check my Twitter and Matt Nathanson has tweeted. Not morning records or 80’s movies like he normally does. Matt tweeted that HE WAS AT LAX. My heart started to race. I grabbed my chap stick (because obviously when you are completely hung over and have not showered and have been up since 5:30 am and are wearing yesterdays eye makeup- chap stick is going to be able to save your less than stellar face) However, I was completely happy that I had chosen to be on team feather earring that morning. score.

In typical stalking Matt Nathanson fashion (I read my mom this story before I posted it + she said "so, you are pretty much creepy stalking him then...yes mom. I am.) Anyways, I tweeted at Matt, like, 3 times. Only 17, 549 less times than I really wanted to. restraint. nbd. At this point I have stood up and am now standing sort of in front of where the security line ends hoping he would walk by. I had a fever. My heart was racing. Every time some messy head of hair looked up from putting their shoes back on I was convinced it would be him. Eventually I moved back to my gate, and as I stood LAST IN LINE staring out into the terminal, I was still hoping Matt Nathanson would walk by.

Matt Nathanson did not walk by. BUT IF HE HAD, I know he would have fallen instantly madly in love with me, my sparkling personality, my eaude de hangover and my super special only one ear really long feather earring.

As I sat down in lonely seat 23A (sigh) I checked my twitter because of course, it had been like 6 minutes and I was starting to get hives without knowing what was going on in the twitterverse and there is was...



This happened. I almost would have met Matt Nathanson today and he would have told me how beautiful I was, and how charming my tweets are, and then we would talk about the fact that he was now single and his (ex) wife had moved to India to become a lesbian yoga guru and there were no hard feeling and no emotional baggage (none of that is true. damn.) and that he was four thousand percent ready for the next love of his life (aka. me) and that he had fallen instantly in love with me and then we would make out for like, 3 to 7 hours. When we took make out breaks he would use those breaks to sing me little victories in sexytime whisper voice and also tell me he never wanted to be apart from me or my extra special single ear only extra long feather earring ever.

The end.



The moral of the story is Matt Nathanson is the bomb.com and so is my feather earring.

backstage bandit.

yay. we have our very own website!

www.rockettes.com

personally i think they got the "backstage photo" part really wrong. I don't know about you guys, but I do not sit around in my shine costume ..?

i am running like hell in some freezing arena barely making it into my shine costume before the stairs move (or don't move. wah. wah). Backstage in Radio City land involves someone being naked and running around/ possibly lighting her nipples on fire. it involves someone talking about sex (me) some talking about camel toe (guilty!) someone talking about there upcoming wedding. someone trying to conceal their preggers belly. Backstage there is that tech guy wearing his "i kill emo dudes" tshirt (i love that guy). Backstage there is hot leader women wearing headsets and carrying clipboards of notes. (insert my name, MANY TIMES, on clipboard) backstage there is the other hot tech dude who I might, want to, will prob. at some point e-stalk/fb stalk/makeout with. gawd. he is so hot. backstage someone is wearing a onesie. someone is losing a lash. someone is held together by tape either on a costume, or an ankle. if you live on the arena tour someone might be wearing a linda wig (ahem steph dolph). backstage there are towels, why? because we sweat. Why? because its HARD ASS work. Why? because it's 90 minutes straight of dancing! because there is a tap number and its 12 minutes long WITH TWO reprises! TWO!

so this is what it really looks like:

worst of me.

Hate.

Hate does the exact opposite of what you want it to. You want hate to make the object of your hate disappear or fall into a black hole and exist somewhere else. It doesn't. Hate draws attention. Hate makes you notice. Hate burns your skin, soul and heart. People hate people for tons of different reasons, sometimes for something they deem unforgivable, or most likely something that they see in the other person that they wish they could have, be, or do.


Jealousy.

Jealousy works the complete opposite way that you want it to. I rarely get jealous but when I do it is the dirtiest, meanest, cruelest kind. I question the universe. Why, if I am SUCH an amazing good person that these other seemingly less deserving people are getting what I want? The sad thing is that, I am no better than them if I am acting one way to the outside world and inside me are dirty, ugly feelings of jealousy.


I spent most of the last 3 days verbalizing the horrible gross feelings that were brewing inside me. I was vicious and nasty and you know what? I cried the whole way home from the airport today, because no matter how jealous and cruel I am to someone else, it changes NOTHING. It makes me feel dirty and horrible and it has zero effect on them, or the situation. Sometimes I just want to find Jennifer Aniston and give her a giant old hug. I totally get her. I wish SHE had a blog, I would read it.

Guess what big girls and boys- We get what we get in life. None of it is fair. Karma is a slow moving beast. We rarely get what we deserve and we even rarer still deserve what we get. We are all wonderful and we are all horrible. Our only hope should be to have enough love and courage in our hearts to talk down the devil that sits on our shoulder and instead create an image of light and compassion.

Others are beautiful, rich, talented, and have all the things I lost in their hands and there is nothing I can do about it except wake up tomorrow and try to be a better person than I was today. It seems impossible right now but I have the highest hopes for tomorrow.

"Breathe. Let go. And remind yourself that this very moment is the only one you know you have for sure"

I am getting oddly totally comfortable with being alone. Parts of me feel totally okay with the future looking like keltie becomes that old woman with her crafts, dogs, tights and books life.

I feel so truly happy when I am sitting on the couch with the beachwood babes, on the phone with one of my best friends or simply doing things like taking yoga or enjoying the sunshine. I have gotten over the feeling of wishing I was somewhere else, or with someone else. It is sort of amazing to be able to do whatever I want whenever I want. It is 100% amazing to be in control of my own feelings and emotions and not be impacted so deeply (because let's face it, I am a FEELER) by someone else. It is refreshing to have control over my heart and mind 97% of the time.

This is also scary because I honestly never thought I would ever come out of my co-dependent life long streak. It is so strange to know exactly the things that make me happy and the things that make me sad and have the complete self control to only manufacture scenarios in which will produce the former. That being said, I still always have moments of pathetic, self-inflicted heart struggle. ugh. But I have learned to forgive myself quickly and let go. I am perfectly imperfect. yay me.

I hope that each and everyone of you one day gets to realize their own power and hold it in their hands and feel just the vastness of your own energy.
We are just these amazing creatures who love, live, feel, hurt, hug, laugh, kneel, skip and be. I am not sure why the universe doesn't hand out gold medals just for being a woman and deciphering the maze of feelings, emotions, hormones, mirrors, and shoulda-coulda-woulda's- but it should start. We deserve it.

thanks for making me a fighter.

Here I am inside this months Dance Spirit Magazine speaking about heart. I am glad that this is the quote that they used. I am sure that I talked the Editor Kate Lydon's ear off for a good hour on the subject.

What I wish I could make everyone see is that- following your dreams has very little to do with talent. It has much more to do with being a fighter, relentless in your dedication, and focused. I heard someone say once "that I should stop talking about hard work because I got handed everything on a silver platter". I wish that were true. The real bottom line is that I have worked tooth and nail for almost 10 years on this career, that only in the last few years has really loved me back. I attended 7 auditions last week, 4 so far in the last 2 days, along with dance classes, tv classes, and 3 rehearsal days. I book one out of every 20 jobs I go in for. I walk around feeling pretty terrible about myself most days. There are a hundred dancers better than me, and a hundred worse.

But, I love dancing. I love my place in the universe. I love this life even when it doesn't love me back. I am so happy, each and everyday that I decided ten years ago to move to new york with 500 bucks in my pocket. My mom is a school teacher and my dad owns a mechanic shop in my town. I don't have famous dancer parents, or come from a Hollywood royalty family. I made this life for myself.

and you can to.

you just gotta have heart.

miles and miles and miles of heart.

(and now I will scream loudly and squeamishly that I am included in the same color box as MIA! AHHHHHHHH)

oh hey.

“oh hey, how are you?” - you.

I have planned our wedding. I have pictured our children. I have purchased years with of birthday presents for you in my mind. I have driven for hours and upon arriving at my doorstep had no recollection of how I got from point A to point B. Forget the road, I can only remember that I spent the ride have imaginary conversations with you. It was the best company I have had in years. Please kiss me. Right now. I want to know what your skin feels like. I cannot form sentences when I am around you, but if I could I would quote something brilliant from poe. I would report a fascinating story I read from the New York Times this morning. I would tell you the story of giving my shoes to the child on the side of the road in Honduras. You would be impressed. I would be more than that giggling girl who trips over her own feet. I wish I could wear my layers like sweaters, and slowly peel them all off before you so that I could prove to you that I more than one of those typical girls and more than this beat up hoodie. I wish I was a mind reader. I wish I knew what you were thinking, unless of course, you are thinking about anything else but kissing me, because in that case, I do not want to know. What if you are actually thinking about that girl I saw in the photo with you, who is prettier than me, and possibly more interesting? I bet you love her. I bet she doesn’t trip over her own feet. I bet she can string sentences together. Something in the way you stand there turns me into an adolescent version of myself, hearing your voice leaves me squeamish for hours. I went to get a manicure and I stood in front of the display of hundreds of possible polish choices and actually based my choice on what I thought might be your favorite, if I happened to see you, ever...again... and it happened to be in the next 4 days before I had bitten all my nails off in anticipation of maybe, possibly, seeing you ever...again. I am hanging off the tip of every word you say, and you barely know I am alive. Or worse yet, you know I am alive and do not care. Even worse yet, you know I am alive, and you think I am that squeamish, obsessive, giggling, strange girl who is just plain weird instead of the uber hot, smart, cultured, dream girl I am trying to hard to act like. Please, do not just stand there. Kiss me or my heart might stop.

“i’m good.”- me

dammit.

I have a special talent for refusing to be defeated by reality. I am well aware of reality, and I feel about it the same way I feel about fear. It isn't that I do not know what is REALLY going on...I just chose to live in spite of it.

I hate love.
I love love.

dammit.

you need to know I'd do this all again, just to get where I am.

Photo credit: Dirty Sugar Photography

I had a delicious conversation last night. A friend of mine was pining over some heartbreak. His girlfriend and him had split, then gotten back together, and then split once again. I asked him a really great question after listening to the story...

"why would someone as awesome as you,(young, sexy, successful, outgoing) want to spend their Friday nights in therapy working on a relationship with THIS person, instead of living your awesome life, and possibly meeting someone new, without all the baggage? What makes HER worth all the hard work?

Are you attempting to fix this relationship because you really feel like it can work, or is worth it?

OR (as I suspect) are you like me, fixing the relationship because you hate to fail?

It is an interesting thought isn't it? I am a perfectionist. I hate to fail. I finish things that I start. I am a "do'er". My friend allie actually renamed her version of "getting shit done" to be "keltie my way through it".

I was thinking last night maybe the reason so many of us hang on way past a relationships expiry date is because of our own sense of failure.

I said I would love you forever. So I will.
I said I would always take care of you. So I will.

And so, against my better judgment, when it comes to love, I hang on way too long. I hate to fail. I always think there is some magical way that I can make it work. If I just "keltie my way through it" eventually I will get to the point I want to be at. Sadly though, this works when it comes to finding auditions, going to dance class, creating clothing lines, writing books, blogging, doing choreography...

I have been haunted by dreams the last few weeks. Reliving the past, waking up with a rebroken heart. I hate that. I have realized that in my three giant adult relationships I have been abandoned each time. I carry a sense of abandonment around as my version of heartache. It isn't one person, or one thing, or one time, it is a giant duffel bag full of hurt. Maybe living through this is what has made me such a do'er, such a fighter. You left me, but I won't ever leave myself.

I am learning that there are things in life worth fighting for.
Then there are times where it is okay to fail.
You are one of the things on my list.
I swore I would love you forever, and I failed.

confidence.

" at auditions I find I can size up a dancer and determine if he's right for my company or project by the way he comes in the door and puts his bag down. That and asking him to come forward and move into fifth postition will tell me all I need to know about his training, his additude, his propriety and modesty, even his charisma. If he has the skill, there's no hiding it. Without skill, there is no confidence. You cannot fake it.

Confidence is a trait that has to be earned honestly and refreshed constantly. "


-Twyla Tharp

rebirth

Today is the day of rebirth. Today is a day of forgiveness.

This means a million different things. To me, It is a day where I can reflect on all the mistakes I have made in the past year, the things I have learned from them, and then I give myself a giant hug. I forgive myself for all my mistakes and I reflect on what I will try to do this year differently. To me, life isn't about the rights or the wrongs, but about the lessons learned. To me, the intent behind an action is far more important than the actual outcome.

Are you doing something (like sending me harassing photos) simply to be malicious and hurt my feelings? Because you win. White flag people. I get it, you think everything I say is something to make fun of- but see, my INTENT was not that. My intent was to share a story of a young woman, who is both totally lost and totally found, and to invite other women into a world that you do not see on MTV reality shows. My intent is to make people think, to make people sing, dance and sometimes to make people cry. To show that love is delicious, love is painful, and to just keep going. My intent is to spread peace, love and understanding. My intent was to meet a group of people who are like-minded.

I invite everyone to rethink their own INTENT today.

If today is a day of forgiveness.
I forgive you.

If today is a day of rebirth.
What parts of you do you wish to change?

What you want I just can't give to you.

Photo credit: Dirty Sugar Photography
There has been no shortage of people caught inside their huge lies in the media the last few months, from superstars to athletes to politicians, it seems everyone is hiding something. This is the story of honest.

I will be one of the first people to expect honesty out of you. This does not mean that I am without flaw in the subject. I have spoken lies from large to even the little white variety. As I get older and more settled in what I want and expect from the universe, the more importance I place on honesty. Being lied to is one of the worst things I have ever experienced. It makes you feel like a fool. It makes you question your own inner workings of your brain. It makes you wonder if those pants really do make you look heavy.

I have learned that every time I have ever lied the consequences of those lies have outweighed the gain I would receive. People lie because it is easier then telling the truth, and most of the time it gets them what they want. It also builds a tangled web into an already confusing life.

For me, lies sit on top of my skin like a rash. The itch and burn and seep into my bloodstream. In the past few years I have cut out lies from my diet. I live a life of truths. Sometimes these are really hard to swallow. Telling people things you KNOW they do not want to hear is never easy, but think of how great it is to walk away knowing you were honest and not having to carry any guilt around. Think of how less confused the opposite party is. They do not have to lose sleep over your "mixed message + self absorbed million ways to interpret this story" lies. They can move on and find what will truly make them happy. That means not only are you happy, but you have given the delicious gift of happiness to someone else. I call that karma.

Being honest is not always the easy way out. It is human nature to want it all for ourselves. It is human nature to tell people what they want to hear. But if you have any respect for yourself. your integrity. your karma- you will speak the truth, yell the truth from the top of your lungs and sing the truth in your morning shower.

Don't tell lies to others.
Don't tell lies to yourself.

They are who they are.
You are who you are.

Beautifully flawed, imperfect, confused, passionate, courageous, fighters.

No one expects you to be perfect.
They do however, expect you to be honest.

i dare you.

"Scare the world: Be exactly who you say you are and tell the truth." -#iwtfy