First Stop, Hell

After a smashing premiere, the circus packed up and continued on its merry way. Despite not having the faintest idea of what we were doing, the first build down actually went pretty smoothly. It only took us two and a half hours to get everything packed into the trucks. I think that's still an hour and a half longer than it should take, but still!

Sadly, this victory was short lived and did nothing more than fill us all with a false sense of hope as far as the build up was concerned. I'm told the build up should really only take an hour and a half. It took us four and a half hours.

Four and a half hours.

And the only reason we stopped after four and a half hours is because the kitchen is on a tight schedule and we had to get to lunch. The truth is, we were only mostly finished after four and a half hours. There were still little things to do like set up all the backstage and sweep up what seemed like eight tonnes of sawdust.

After inhaling my lunch I ran back to the tent because it was absolutely imperative that I test the floor before the show. That's right, we took a break for lunch an hour and a half before we were to start the first show of a two show day.

When I got to the tent, I discovered that the Chinese pole girls had left their eight million pound pole in the middle of the stage. Unable to move it myself, I tried to set it to the side, only by that time they had to clean the floor, so I still couldn't do wheel. At that point I was told to go put on my make-up and come back. When I did get back, the floor was still unavailable and now everyone was clamouring to do their pre-set.

Eventually I managed to try the floor and sweet merciful crap it was a disaster. It was super sloped from back to front, and also down to the right. In spirals, I was flung back up or driven down to the corner where I would have to end my spirals prematurely or risk falling off the stage or hitting the ring wall. As for straight lines... forget it. In one direction, any effort on my part meant slamming into the decor I was rolling so fast, and in the other direction I had to push with every ounce of strength I had, and even then, I barely had enough height/momentum to complete my figures.

I have never been so miserable on stage. Every second, behind a very plastic smile, I had to calculate how much speed I needed, how much I had to adjust, what was the floor doing, will I make it? And I fell, and struggled, and fell some more. All my technique was useless. It was like I had never done wheel before in my life. Each move had to purposely be done incorrectly in the hopes that it would cancel out the flaws of the floor. And the whole time my mind was screaming "That's wrong! You're doing it wrong! You're going to get hurt! NO!"

It is not fun to be on stage and second guess everything you are doing. It is not fun to be on stage and have to do so much mental math in order to execute your figures that your face freezes in a fake smile and your eyes glaze over. It is not fun to feel humiliated because you cannot even remotely do your job correctly, through no fault of your own, and have an entire audience bear witness.

And there was still a second show to do! But before that, we had a group rehearsal. And after that, I had some solo training time. It was about as disastrous as every other attempt at wheel I'd made that day, but at least I found a few ways to be safer.

From there, I inhaled my dinner once again, then had dish duty, and then had my first break of the day (I worked concessions during intermission and would do so again during the second show). One half hour to myself before I had to be back in the tent.

The second show was just as bad as the first.

Finally, the fifteen hour day came to an end. I was so tired, so worn, so broken, so miserable... If it had been that hard but I could have at least taken pleasure in my work and my performance, it would have been one thing. But the entire experience was just brutal on all levels with no silver lining in sight.

I got back to my caravan and cried. How? How on earth would I make it through the season? That night all I wanted to do was quit and go home. My only comfort came the next day when I spoke with some of the workers who assured me that after that day of hell, they too wanted to go home and wondered what they had gotten themselves into.

I can only hope things get better from here.

The Fear

I am utterly exhausted. I knew I was spoiled rotten at my old job, but holy moly this is hard. The circus never stops. Right now it feels like all I do is get up, eat, do a show, eat, do another show, tear down, eat, and go to bed. If I'm lucky there's a shower in there some place too.

On the day of the fourth show, our seventh day of work in a row, I thought my arms would fall off and my legs would give out. It wasn't even that I was sore, I just had no energy, no strength, no nothing. My temper is short and my mood is a little grim. I have never been so tired on every conceivable level in my life.

Not only is it only the beginning, but there are eight months of this ahead. And I'm terrified I'm not going to be able to make it. Am I strong enough? Stable enough? Fit enough? Will I crack under the pressure? Will the strain of it all wear me down to a nub?

Right now, I don't know. Right now, it feels like I won't be able to. In the end, I don't really have a choice in the matter. We're all in this together and without every single person here, it won't work.

If you need me, I'll be whimpering in the corner while I wait for my body to toughen up and adapt to this harsh new circus reality.