I’m hoping to drive back up to Beantown for a couple classes or at least the last dance tomorrow. I’m feeling a little better today, though I still slept an inordinate amount of hours.
One of the gentleman working at Beantown called me last night because I didn’t show up for my shift and I just felt awful (I left messages and emails and voice mail everywhere, mind you, when I left sunday night). I remember I told my instructor, “Just put me where ever you need me. I’ll show up early and stay for clean up.” And I did… the three nights I was there. I even worked two, two hour shifts in one day when I was only told I’d be working for an hour each day. Still, I’m worried she’ll never ask/allow me to help out again and that makes me sad.
Oh, and the illness? It’s a soy allergy. Literally the last thing I ever wanted (on top of a gluten and sugar intolerance). I’m not a big fan of soy (and I wouldn’t have eaten it had I had another protein option at camp), but it’s rather insidious. It looks like I will be eating almost nothing but whole foods from now on. Whatever the sacrifice, it has to be better than not being able to breathe and having hives on the inside of my mouth and throat.
Being tired constantly when I want to be dancing at an event that only happens once a year is making me grumpy. I slept from 2am last night till 3pm this afternoon. It’s midnight and I’m sleepy again.
Got sick, slept sixteen hours straight, came home.
There were only two other classes I’ll be sad to miss (aside from the evening dances), and I was contemplating getting a private lesson…
…because I came to this realization about how green my dancing really is. You know, ‘cause when you get passed over for follows who don’t have any pulse (literally walking through every move), do seven-count swing-outs, and look frightened of everything their lead suggests, you do start to question yourself a bit.
I should be practicing more solo jazz. Every time I do, partner dancing gets easier. I’m slow to figure these things out, however.
People will often show me how to do something if I ask them. I can’t believe I’m just realizing this now.
There’s a bunch of lovely people I will not see for two weeks because they are not going to beantown. I’m trying not to pout too much because I do get to go to beantown, after all.
I do NOT know WHAT I was THINKING signing up for a jack and jill. I am so nervous. What’s worse, when I try to tell people I’m nervous, their response is something to the effect of, “you signed up for the beginner? You should have signed up for intermediate.” No. NO. Insert-cuss-words-here and also NO.
One of my absolute favorite people to dance with is also in the beginner jack and jill. What are the chances we’ll get to dance together at all?
I’ve gotten three compliments in the last week about how responsive I am while following. This makes very happy.
There’s this new thing happening where I do some sort of break or variation and my lead then plays off it and then I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. Part of me is all, ‘hey! I’m doing it right - I play off his leads/moves, he plays off mine, it’s awesome!’ and another part of me is all, ‘I HAVE DISTURBED THE BALANCE OF SPACE AND TIME.’ Yeah. I probably need to get over that… somehow.
Only I could create Lindy Neurosis.
Tonight, I am going to the first Balboa dance in Boston. I am both excited and fearful. There are only two people so far with whom I feel comfortable dancing Bal with. I’m sure this will change with time as I had this exact issue when I first started lindy hop.
I need a nap because I stayed up most of the night after the dance, practicing some ridiculous things I’m sure will take me months to work into my dancing.
I never used to be able to answer the question, “who’s your favorite lead to dance with?” but I realized last night that I can now. There are five people with whom I literally cannot have a ‘bad dance,’ even if I dance poorly.
The last two weeks have been… challenging. Stressful? They haven’t been good. I’m just starting to feel better.
But then I stayed up all night.
I do not ever understand the impact I have on people. Here I am, thinking I’m a social ninja, stealthily interacting with lots of people while keeping off everyone’s radar. Then, all at once, I find out I am not a ninja; I am a boombox toting, florescent pants wearing break-dancer in a library.
Balboa was easier when I was faking it.
Sometimes I wish my memory was not as good as it is.
I am so mixed up emotionally right now.
I think I might spend the weekend in bed, cuddling my kindle.