I was 17 years old, I had nothing more than a black leotard, naked meshes and an intolerable pair of shoes of 2 -inch -headed head of 2 inches, as a camera crew followed my companions and I in the rehearsal room of the radio room.
How did I end up here? Given that it was my mother’s dream to be Radio City Rockette, I signed up for the audition for “The Rockette Summer Intensive” almost 15 years ago. It was a demanding program, weekly, as a boot field, where the anxious women danced their choir, praying that they were enough to offer a lifetime opportunity: such a coveted place in the world’s kickline line.
In the same year I signed up for the audition for the intensive with hundreds of other girls, who have since been replaced by two other summer programs and operates differently, MSG Network has piloted a TV TV program with 10 slightly naive and aspirants.
To be considered for the show, I presented an unpleasant video performing with my New Jersey high school dance team and, to my surprise, I was selected for what would become an experience that changed life, but not because of the reason you could wait.
The crew followed me and the nine other local girls in the area of Tri-State around, “Real Housewives” style, as we did what we felt as 1,000 shots to film the opening credits of the program in an empty radio city at the morning hours.
I did not realize at the time, but seeing it now, the magic of drama produced by reality was evident. They deepened the injury of a girl, who led to her audition terribly.
Another casting partner revealed to the cameras that he irresponsibly went to a concert the night before the audition and was running with empty fumes, which led viewers to believe that he would blow his chances of his audition.
And of course, when I got to me, the cameras made sure to zoom in the panic face in the hearing room, fortunately for the crew, I found it very petrified all the time.
I was left out to make green screen confessions, trying to pass the audition process without crying-or launching-of both exhaustion and nerves.
I didn’t actually throw up, but I was nearby.
I remember being a ball of nervousness and anxiety, asking -how I put myself in this situation.
When it was time to open my acceptance or rejection of the program, I was in front of a cinema crew in my parents’ kitchen. My inverse mother on the camera was so nervous for me that she filled a glass of wine to crush our laundry at 3 p.m. on Wednesday.
She admitted it after the fact and my family is still laughing to this day.
I was accepted and relieved, excited and passionate knowing that this trip had just begun.
The day of the auditions was only a small vision of what the week’s program involved, and this was a bit terrifying. I knew it was a good dancer, but I never considered it incredible, like some of the other girls who had the same dreams as me.
Looking back now, I may have been Typecast as “Rookie with potential”, but at that time I was relieved that I didn’t have to read a rejecting email to a camera.
Each day was an exhausting day of six hours of training, which is customary to make real rockets, full of intense warmings followed by drilling Christmas routines dozens of times and, of course, hundreds of kicks.
Then at home, more perforation. He was so restless that he would not remember the routines. I would wake up every morning sinking, trying to put my panties.
This program was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, both mentally and physically, maybe even today, but especially at 17. The scariest part of all this was that everything was documented for television, at a time when Facebook was hardly one thing and no one used their camera phones throughout its potential.
Certainly, every day that week, he tried to devise an injury he could fake for excuse -me of the program early. Not because it did not enjoy it or it was not worth it, but because he was an unsafe teenager who doubted himself.
He did not help when the professionals leading the intensive revealed to the camera my greatest insecurity about my technique as a world dancer, it is enough to traumatize a teenager. I remind you that they told some of my movements not sharp enough or that I had to work on my skills.
We were a group of high school girls who were desperately trying to be noticed for both the cameras and the director of the program, a hunting recipe, as one could imagine. I remember one of the girls a question about a routine we were learning and she only spoke to me when the cameras were rolling. This gave me a tasting of the television of reality and the world of dance, and I did not care.
He was in a room among so many incredibly talented dancers who would give his left kidney to be a rockette, but he was more fascinated by the television program operations than anything else. I loved the operation of the cameras and being on the screen: all the work pre and post -production excited me.
The show was an incredible experience for many reasons, but mainly because it helped me to decide what I wanted to do with my life and what I wanted to leave behind.
At that time, I thought I would pursue the dream of converting -Rockette or professional dancer throughout my adulthood, but this experience helped me to realize -I wanted to work in the media, which I would never have known if it were not for this television exhibition as a teenager.
Although I did not become Rockette, instead of falling into life like the parade of wooden soldiers, I threw myself to my own spectacular.
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