Still Awake at 6am

I’m sitting on the bathroom floor, eating bagel-shaped bread (that is not a bagel), stretching, occasionally gulping water, and writing this.  My two roommates are asleep already, it is 6:05am, and I have spent the past many hours dancing.

The ballroom sort of closed around 4:30, but I was having such a great time dancing, I didn’t want the music and dancing to stop.  Plus, I hadn’t gotten to dance with one friend who was still there, and I had been wanting to dance with him since I’d first seen him at the dance event earlier tonight.  So the DJ – he also happens to be the event director – said that just the friend and I would be dancing, and everyone else would watch (seeing as the ballroom was closing and all), and announced us as though we were a couple in a competition from earlier tonight.

For whatever reason, everyone, as they gathered around in the floor, ended up encircling us, and stretching out their legs so that they formed a very large star around us on the floor.  As we danced, they clapped along and cheered us on.  When we finished, everyone agreed that another couple needed to dance, now that we had started this whole contest idea.  The DJ, glorious in his will to be ever-spontaneous in order to suit the current situation, allowed and rolled with the idea.

So, another couple danced, and we cheered them on.  And we went through all five couples sitting on the floor, plus the one girl who had been recording, over to the side.  One of the other girls and I traded off dancing with her, since the DJ declared that he had to remain DJing.  (Cough-cough, though really I enjoyed getting to lead in his place.)

We didn’t do an all-skate at the end (where all the couple dance one song together).  Most everyone was too tired.  But that’s okay.  We had an amazing Superstar dance contest in the middle of a human star, and that’s more than fine with me.  ūüėõ
Post-a-day 2017

A match made in France?

In my first year of college, I went on a traveling Janterm, where we spent two weeks studying French in Cannes, and doing tours to the nearby towns and famous spots, and one week in Paris, exploring as we wished.  During the first two weeks, while a group of us were on a city bus, I noticed a French kid about our age.  He was sitting in a seat, on the left side of the bus, somewhat near the front, listening to music with headphones on.  I was curious what music he had playing.  I also thought he was cute.  Therefore, I wanted to talk to him.  The easiest thing for me to say to him was to ask him to what music he was listening.  I fought constantly with the insides of my brain and the fluttering of my stomach, and at last, I believe, he got off the bus.  Or else, we got off the bus.  I really don’t remember. However, I remember making eye contact with him at least once, if not a few times while we were all riding  the bus.

Well, I was incredibly disappointed that I had not spoken with the boy, though not entirely surprised at myself ‚Äď even today, I have to psych myself up for odd situations like that.  However, I usually succeed in making the interaction nowadays, whereas at the time, I did not.

But this tale does not end sadly.  At least, not yet.

I believe that it was that same night, or perhaps the following – but I really think it was that same night – that a group of us decided to go to a nightclub in the town.  Some of the older guys who were working at the dormitory where we were all studying offered to take us to some cool bar and club.  We all happily agreed.  Well, some of the girls and guys and I agreed, but not everyone.

So, a small band of foreigners temporary living in Cannes so they could study French headed to a nice bar for a while, and then to a dance club later on that night.  On the way, I learned that a Romanian speaker can understand other romance languages rather easily.  (Fun Fact: This was my first interaction with someone being able to understand another language that is similar to his/her own, without necessarily being able to speak that language.  Of course, I can now do that with various languages myself, but it was a fun start to the concept for me.)

The bar was fun and interesting, and we didn’t have to check our coats, but we did have to buy drinks to compensate for having not checked our coats, and we had to deal with a huge pile of coats, which we were somewhat hiding in the corner.  However, I need not say much more about the bar.  Rather, anything more.  The club is the important one, you see. 

First off, the club was huge and, really, quite an awesome dance club.  I was amazed at the environment, as well as the clientele.  People danced by themselves or with a friend or with friends, and it didn’t matter which they did.  There were no circles forming awkwardly, or anything like that.  People weren’t doing official or formal dances of any kind, though.  They were just free dancing, having a wonderful time, doing their own things to the music.  I happily joined in in this type of merriment, while being amazed that on one side of me could be a 17-year-old, and on the other side of me could be a 40-year-old ‚Äď no one cared how old anyone else was.

In short, I loved the club, and I loved dancing in it.

And, while I enjoyed dancing in it, I saw a familiar head.  When he turned and saw me, we looked in each other’s eyes, and there was this sort of understanding.  We both knew that we had seen each other that day.  We both knew that we had not talked to one another.  And it felt as though we both knew that I at least had wanted to talk to him.  This time, however, it seemed quite clear that he wanted to talk to me, as well.  Shortly after seeing one another, he was dancing in front of me, with me.  We held hands as we danced with one another, and we danced without holding hands, too.  

Even though I could manage French rather well at that time, he never got to find out this fact, because he addressed me in English.  It was somewhat iffy English, but adorable, and I loved that he was trying and that he knew we had all been speaking English on the bus.  He had been listening to music, of course, but he clearly had been paying enough attention to us nonetheless.

I don’t remember how long we danced or how we started dancing with one another, but I remember that it was absolutely wonderful.  At some point later in the evening, a couple of the girls who were with me told me I needed to give him a way to contact me.  I didn’t have a phone, of course, but one of the girls had just gotten one that day, because she was staying for the whole semester.  So, we wrote my full name and her phone number on a piece of paper.  In the French conjugation of the verb to want, I couldn’t remember if the you form ended in an or a t.  So, instead of saying, “If you want,” I wrote, “If one wants,” which, in French, can also be read as, “If we want.”  (Si on veut.)

I handed him the paper and I said goodbye and rushed out with my friends.  I don’t even remember what I said to him, or if I even said anything to him as I gave him the paper.  I just know that I gave it to him.

I spent several hours throughout the following months searching a particular page on Facebook.  It was the page for the club where we had been dancing.  I was scouring the faces and names of all the people who had liked the page, looking for this guy.  I used to know his first name.  I honestly couldn’t tell you what it was now, though.  I do remember his eyes, though… those gray-blue, yet bright eyes.  But I searched long and hard for his Facebook, to no avail.

He never called.

Or, at least, if he did, it was after I had left, and my friend with the phone never told me.

I am reminded of all of this, because today, for the second time in my life, I gave a piece of paper with my name and contact info on it to a guy.  (My full name and LINE ID, to be exact.)  He has already contacted me.

Post-a-day 2017

tuesday – tuesday – tuesday

Last night, I went to a dance social in Tokyo. ¬†It was mostly friends and acquaintances, though plenty of other people I hadn’t known before the social last night. ¬†However, they were all adults, which makes the following scenario worth telling (in my opinion, anyway). ¬†As an important matter, know that I wore days-of-the-week underwear yesterday. ¬†And, yes, they were for the correct current day of the week.

At the social, I happened to be wearing a pair of blue linen pants with a drawstring.  As such, they consistently slipped ever so slightly downward as I danced.  With my shirt being longer than the waistband of my pants, that normally would be do biggie.  However, seeing as this was west coast swing dancing, that means that my shirt regularly would get twisted or bunched up a bit, rising above the waist band of my pants for a couple or few seconds here and there.

Now, I normally am not opposed to such little glimpses of my midriff as my shirt-pants combination were displaying. ¬†However, since my pants kept slipping downward, little by little, in combination with the shirt going upward now and then, this meant that the waistband of my underwear was also showing on a regular basis as I danced. ¬†I guess I am not really opposed to this either, as they are nothing sultry, but I guess it is a bit of a social taboo when in certain company. ¬†I digress…

I chuckled when I first noticed my peeping underwear waistband, because, do recall, I was wearing days-of-the-week underwear last night. ¬†“See?” I thought, “I am just so dedicated to my job, that I am even teaching English after hours!” ¬†For, every time my shirt went up, “Tuesday” was visible in clear block letters all the way around my hips.

I shared this thought with a few friends, and we all had a good laugh at the silliness of the situation – that I not only was wearing days-of-the-week underwear, but was unintentionally showing them off to everyone, and found a cute little joke around its happening. ¬†One girlfriend commented, that it was a mighty fine and creative way to teach high schoolers English, removing clothing and showing the English off on parts of the body. ¬†I replied how I¬†could¬†only imagine how much the boys would love learning English. ¬†She then said that even she would be interested in seeing¬†that lesson happen. ¬†After all, who could resist such a unique lesson, boy or girl, man, woman, or +? ¬†I know I’d want to see it, if something like that happened, because that’s just too ridiculous to pass up. ¬†ūüėõ

 

Post-a-day 2017

Accepting a Dream

Have you ever finally realized how you feel about something, – something kind of big – and, rather than be shocked about it, notice that you already knew how you felt deep down, but it was really just a matter of being unwilling to admit it to yourself?  I feel like I have been a boy who loves the color pink, and, resisting the color for years for the social construct’s idea of what colors boys are meant to like best, depriving myself of something I love, becoming so good at making excuses not to love pink, that I even began believing my own made-up excuses (and had other people reminding me of the regularly, as though it had been their ideas in the first place, instead of given to them over and over again by me).

Anyway, I’m not actually a boy, and I don’t particularly like the color pink (oddly enough), but I feel as though my situation is similar.  I have resisted the dance world for “reasons” of practicality.  If you get injured, people’s preferences change, you offend someone, you get sick, you take vacation, or any number of about a bajillion* other things that do not endanger typical job-holders, then you do not make money.  Being a professional dancer (of any kind, though I am mostly referencing partner dances, as opposed to the common understanding that being a dancer is synonymous with being an exotic dancer or stripper) is simply dangerously impractical.  And so I easily brushed it aside when I was younger, seeing how it clearly is a terrible idea, and so there was no point even to consider it.

In doing that, though, I eventually let my reasoning take over as an excuse for not improving in my dancing, as well as for giving in to my fears, and not speaking up enough or demanding enough that actually would have made a difference in my dance opportunities.  But after all, I’m not aiming at a career in this, so why invest more time and money than necessary for a simple pastime or hobby, hmm?  A thought which, of course, led me to a sad state of affairs both mentally and performance-wise with dancing.  I not only want to be good enough to be one of the professionals, I actually want to be one of them.  Period.

Period.

And I’ve never actually said that before.  It’s kind of terrifying, really, even just considering how much I just might mean all of that.  Deep down, I know I mean it.  And that in no way changes my surface level of resistance.  Well, a tad, but not much – I still don’t want to accept it, because of what all that would mean regarding my past with dance.  Granted, I realize that I am the one interpreting things in this way, making them mean this or that.  Even still… if I truly want to be a professional dancer, and truly be good enough to be one, as well, then I have spent a good amount of time doing a lot of nothingness, when I could have been actively seeking and working toward my absolutely achievable dance dream.  It’ll take a good amount of high quality work, for sure, but that in no way alters the achievability of it.

So then, where does that leave me now, and what steps do I take next and next and next to achieve my dream?

 

 

*I have spent most of my life believing that word to be spelled with a g.

Post-a-day 2017

 

Trying something old newly

Today, I was granted the opportunity I have so greatly desire these past few years to compete in a certain category of dancing.  Years ago, it was only normal for me to compete in this category, but then some mental things happened, I didn’t like where I stood with the category, and so I stopped.  Until I had a new perspective and relationship with it all, it was best that I not participate…, though I am only just now realizing the truth to this – at the time, I was just tired of my fear of rejection, and especially the seemingly constant unfortunate partnerships in which I ended up being.

So today, I had a beautiful and brief and clearly god-given chat with someone who gave me my new perspective.  There was barely ten minutes remaining for sign-ups for all competitions, though everyone was pretty much all signed up for everything desired at this point, and a guy near me suddenly turned to me and asked me if I were competing this weekend.

We talked about it.  I explained where I stood with perspective, including my desire for a new one, and he gave me his own perspective, and well as some on-the-spot thought-out ideas.  I was nervous, yet excited, as he accompanied me to the registration desk, and I registered myself for one category, and asked for help in finding a partner for the other category.

Thirty minutes later, I had my partner (who had already signed up, but just without a name for the parent, so we just added my name onto his registration), and I was even excited about competing.

When it came time for competition tonight, he and I had danced maybe four songs together total.  So our fifth ever song was in competition (and sixth and seventh).  I felt a bit meh about our performance, but I was okay with it – we had only just met, and I hadn’t really known the songs too well or at all, not was I in the habit any longer of competitive dancing.  So there were a million improvements to be made to meet just my own standards for making finals in a contest of this caliber.

Sure enough, my sentiments were validate when I  watched the videos of our dances – not bad, but not great either.  Just meh – average whatever mixed with good spurts here and there.  And so I didn’t much expect to make finals, leaving me comfortable with the resulting non-finals-making.  Yeah, it’s a bummer not to make finals.  And I want to be confidently in finals whenever I am in them, instead of being in them by surprise.  You know what I mean?  I want to deserve it without a doubt, as opposed to being mediocre and that being enough.

And so, I am happy that I competed. And tomorrow, I might not make finals either.  That one has been mentally harder for me on the past.  However, I think this is the perfect time and place for me to try it out, give it a go, and keep my head held high, all in preparation for future dancing events.  I want perfection of myself, and competition is a darn good way to work towards that.  I was reminded of that today.  Both parts of it.  So I no longer have to compete to win the competition, but can compete in an aim for my own perfection.  I mean, come on – who doesn’t want perfection when hundreds of people are quite obviously watching?  Hmm??  ūüôā
Post-a-day 2017

career planning like child’s play

As I pondered about today at work, with no actual work to do, but tons of pastimes to pursue at my desk, I somehow came to the idea of thinking like a child. ¬†I think I was inspired from the fact that a girl in this one movie was about to become a full-fledged lawyer, and I found myself somewhat envious. ¬†It got me thinking about how, as a child, I never really wanted to be anything specific when I grew up. ¬†Sure I said singer/actor, but that was kind of a ‘just ’cause’ answer, not an impassioned one – my heart was certainly not in it. ¬†It just sounded fun to be famous and super talented, you know?

So, as I was thinking about how kids have these people they want to be when they grow up, and how ridiculous those things sometimes sound, and then how boring of jobs those kids typically eventually end up getting when they are adults, I got into the crazy-ish idea of, “Well, if I were a kid¬†now, what would I want to be when I grow up?” ¬†And that’s when the fun started.

It didn’t take very long for me to come to my conclusion. ¬†Fully-passioned and excited, I felt a need to share the news with the world. ¬†I didn’t think much beyond that – sharing it – other than how fun it sounded, and how silly it would be should I actually somehow become such an individual. ¬†Why? ¬†Well, I said that I want to be a cello-playing ballerina artist who does astronomy and physics stuff for fun.

So, I posted about it on the beautiful world of Facebook. ¬†After seeing a few of the comments that friends made, however, I began actually thinking about such a career path for myself. ¬†Part of the whole reason I started thinking about it, was because I thought it crazy how kids, who can do next-to-nothing about it, are so passionate about what they want to do for their jobs, and yet adults, who have all the ability to¬†do something about their current jobs, tend to be so dispassionate about their careers. ¬†So, here I am, taking on a child’s passion in terms of career direction/choice (really, choosing freely (as a child chooses) what I would do, if I could do anything I wanted), and I suddenly realized that I am one of those adults who is in a position actually to¬†do something about my career.

Wow. ¬†The more I thought about it, the more I realized how easy it could be for me. ¬†Yes, it is loads and loads of hard work. ¬†I know. ¬†But I’m talking about practicality of the situation. ¬†I’ve recently re-begun ballet lessons, I’m picking up my own art supplies next week in order to continue in my student-taught art lessons I’ve been receiving, and I’m working at a school with lots of musical connections (likely with links to a student of some age who could start teaching me to play the cello). ¬†And this is all just in my small town in Japan. ¬†When I move back to my big city in the US this Summer/Fall, I’ll have innumerable resources at my fingertips. ¬†And, without even realizing this earlier today, I have made specific progress towards this goal for the Fall: I now recall that I have already spoken to a sort of art expert to help me find some appropriate art classes for me to take this coming Fall.

Life is looking beautiful on the career path front. ¬†I in almost no way have a ballerina’s body. ¬†And that’s okay. ¬†I don’t want to be on the main stage. ¬†I know that. ¬†But I want to be dancing ballet. ¬†ūüôā ¬†(I’m so excited about this, I can’t stop smiling and having a little delighted shudder race through me every so often as I think about it all.)

My cousin commented about my career goals being similar to the career of Hedy Lamar.  I had to look her up, though I recognized the name.  As I was on the phone with my mom, I asked her what she knew about Hedy.  Just that she was a black and white actress, very gorgeous 30s look.  When I found her Wikipedia page, I read it aloud to my mother, and we both were amazed Рshe was fabulous, and my cousin was exactly right in comparing my career goals to the career of Hedy Lamar!  Check her out.  She was awesome.  She and the guy from Queen (Brian May) who has a PhD in Astrophysics.  They rock.

So, yeah… that’s today’s ponderings that I cared to share here. ¬†ūüôā ¬†Peace out, yo.

 

Post-a-day 2017

 

Ooh, ah, ow!

Everything hurts. ¬† Like… really… everywhere that I have muscles hurts.

I’ve been going to my gym most days these past three-ish weeks, and my body hasn’t stopped hurting since that first¬†Angels Training class on a Thursday afternoon. ¬†Mostly, it was only the lower half of my body. ¬†Now that I’ve gone to ballet and barbell workouts, I’ve got the full-body pains going. ¬†So much so, that belly dance class (my first!) was actually quite hard, simply because I could barely control my own muscles. ¬†Ugh. ¬†Just ugh!

It’s all really good, of course, because it’s just part of being healthy and getting fit again and all that yada-yada. ¬†That in no way changes the fact that everything hurts, and doing anything ¬†– even existing, let alone walking or going up and down stairs and such – hurts.

And, what am I doing tomorrow? ¬†Going back. ¬†And for an undetermined amount of time, too. ¬†I want to stay until the last class, because Tai Chi is quite fun and relaxing-uplifting, but I think I won’t. ¬†I have a Lindy Hop party/social happening in town tomorrow night, and I want to go to the lesson that is at the start of it, so I have to head out before Tai Chi even starts, if I want to make it on time to the Lindy dance lesson. ¬†I wonder if I’ll even be able to dance. ¬†I might just keel over in pain, and just fall asleep on the side of the dance floor after my first and only dance of the night.

Anyway, I’m actually unable to see clearly or straight right now, I’m so exhausted from this week. ¬†I think I went to bed close to or long past midnight …oh, my… since last Friday. ¬†Ugh. ¬†No wonder I’m so exhausted! ¬†Haha. ¬†Okay, goodnight!! ¬†ūüėÄ

 

Post-a-day 2017