TGI... you know the rest.
Whew, I am tired today. Last night was a double-dose of dancing-- bellydance, then lindy. The new BD instructor, Jessica, is really nice. Gorgeous as all get out. She's going to work with us on veils and zils. Oh, props-- I look forward to several weeks of looking like the newly-undead while I struggle with my remedial hand-foot coordination. The first class was kind of 'meh,' though-- attributed mostly to the fact that she's just getting the feel for our class. We got to do some new group and mirror-work, which was challenging and good, but the musical selections got boring and uninspiring very quickly. I need something with a stronger beat, personally. We'll see how the next class goes.
As for the lindy-- Bridget and Kevin took me aside to show me the basic, which was... wow, it's hard to adjust a six-count to an eight-count and be able to negotiate back and forth between the two. Apparently I did a good job feeling the change, but I'm still stumbling a little over where to put my feet during the seven and eight counts of a swing-out. Anyway, the social dance went far better than anticipated-- for the most part, I kept up and caught onto the funky flashy jazzy weird moves after watching them once or twice. Everyone there was really nice-- it was a completely tension and competition-free space. I surprised myself by even being able to keep up with Chiles-- that instructor guy that Abby, Flissy and I constantly hear through the walls during BD ("five, six, a-five, six, se-ven, eight..." times eleventy-billion). I suppose that I shouldn't have been at all surprised that my feet actually left the ground several times during that dance-- I was dancing with Mr. Fancy McFlashypants, afterall. But I managed to not look flail-y and awkward, so go team me. However, by 11pm, I was totally, totally pooped out. I came home, threw myself in the shower, ate a few pieces of carb-restoring toast, then passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
It feels good to be learning new steps. I'm making the dance my own, something I like to do, as opposed to something so intricately tied to a past relationship. It's one of the many ways I'm teaching and re-training myself to be independent, because I'd been concerned with fitting into someone else's life for far too long. I'm taking back my associations and my space for myself. It's like uprooting and re-planting a tree, in a way-- a massive undertaking, but totally worth it if I re-plant in a healthier spot. I need nourishing soil right now. And whoa, that metaphor officially got way too sappy.
At any rate, I'd been hemming and hawwing about whether or not I should go to FNS tonight. On one hand, I miss my friends-- Chris and Sarah, and Marc and Val and Dawn and everyone else. And there's a great band playing tonight, one that I enjoy. On the other, I don't know if I'm quite ready yet. I was talking to Dixie about it this morning, and she gave me some good advice. She told me to make the decision that would give me the most peace.
I thought on it, and the truth of the matter is that all verbal or written assurances aside, I haven't felt safe and at home at FNS in awhile. In fact, even thinking about going gives me jangly nerves. FNS has been the starting point for two of the most traumatic nights I've had in recent memory, and so it's not a place that I can walk into and not feel tense-- because in both cases, I anticipated the tension, and I anticipated being treated poorly. And in both cases, I was right. I'm trying to be clear that I'm not talking about any of my wonderful friends here, but still, the facts are what they are. I don't want to go to a dance and feel all of those residual insecurities. I don't want to have to conciously keep my chin up and constantly tell myself to be strong. I don't want to have to hold myself together when I feel like falling apart. I don't want to go expecting to have a nervous and difficult time. I don't want any further drama whatsoever. And I really don't want to go and project false bravado-- hah hah hah, look at my smile, I am completely and totally fine. I can look pretty and put-together, but it doesn't reflect what's going on inside, and I need to learn how to spare myself needless pain. I am changing myself, and focusing on what's best for me, not what other people want from me. It will simply take more time until I am ready to go.
I'm thinking maybe First Friday of next month. My co-worker, Mark, and his wife, Kendall, are dancers, and they suggested we try to get the DDI guys and their girlfriends to come. Glenn has mentioned to me that he'd like to learn to dance. I think it would be a cool thing, since we all seem to get along outside of work. And having a seperate group there would likely help me-- it would give me something to focus on, and I'd be surrounded by people who are completely distanced from any drama I've experienced at FNS. I think it'd be good.
Anyway, those were my Deep Thoughts of the morning. I shall offset it with the following quotes:
Conversations with Sara:
Things only heard at my house:
As for the lindy-- Bridget and Kevin took me aside to show me the basic, which was... wow, it's hard to adjust a six-count to an eight-count and be able to negotiate back and forth between the two. Apparently I did a good job feeling the change, but I'm still stumbling a little over where to put my feet during the seven and eight counts of a swing-out. Anyway, the social dance went far better than anticipated-- for the most part, I kept up and caught onto the funky flashy jazzy weird moves after watching them once or twice. Everyone there was really nice-- it was a completely tension and competition-free space. I surprised myself by even being able to keep up with Chiles-- that instructor guy that Abby, Flissy and I constantly hear through the walls during BD ("five, six, a-five, six, se-ven, eight..." times eleventy-billion). I suppose that I shouldn't have been at all surprised that my feet actually left the ground several times during that dance-- I was dancing with Mr. Fancy McFlashypants, afterall. But I managed to not look flail-y and awkward, so go team me. However, by 11pm, I was totally, totally pooped out. I came home, threw myself in the shower, ate a few pieces of carb-restoring toast, then passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
It feels good to be learning new steps. I'm making the dance my own, something I like to do, as opposed to something so intricately tied to a past relationship. It's one of the many ways I'm teaching and re-training myself to be independent, because I'd been concerned with fitting into someone else's life for far too long. I'm taking back my associations and my space for myself. It's like uprooting and re-planting a tree, in a way-- a massive undertaking, but totally worth it if I re-plant in a healthier spot. I need nourishing soil right now. And whoa, that metaphor officially got way too sappy.
At any rate, I'd been hemming and hawwing about whether or not I should go to FNS tonight. On one hand, I miss my friends-- Chris and Sarah, and Marc and Val and Dawn and everyone else. And there's a great band playing tonight, one that I enjoy. On the other, I don't know if I'm quite ready yet. I was talking to Dixie about it this morning, and she gave me some good advice. She told me to make the decision that would give me the most peace.
I thought on it, and the truth of the matter is that all verbal or written assurances aside, I haven't felt safe and at home at FNS in awhile. In fact, even thinking about going gives me jangly nerves. FNS has been the starting point for two of the most traumatic nights I've had in recent memory, and so it's not a place that I can walk into and not feel tense-- because in both cases, I anticipated the tension, and I anticipated being treated poorly. And in both cases, I was right. I'm trying to be clear that I'm not talking about any of my wonderful friends here, but still, the facts are what they are. I don't want to go to a dance and feel all of those residual insecurities. I don't want to have to conciously keep my chin up and constantly tell myself to be strong. I don't want to have to hold myself together when I feel like falling apart. I don't want to go expecting to have a nervous and difficult time. I don't want any further drama whatsoever. And I really don't want to go and project false bravado-- hah hah hah, look at my smile, I am completely and totally fine. I can look pretty and put-together, but it doesn't reflect what's going on inside, and I need to learn how to spare myself needless pain. I am changing myself, and focusing on what's best for me, not what other people want from me. It will simply take more time until I am ready to go.
I'm thinking maybe First Friday of next month. My co-worker, Mark, and his wife, Kendall, are dancers, and they suggested we try to get the DDI guys and their girlfriends to come. Glenn has mentioned to me that he'd like to learn to dance. I think it would be a cool thing, since we all seem to get along outside of work. And having a seperate group there would likely help me-- it would give me something to focus on, and I'd be surrounded by people who are completely distanced from any drama I've experienced at FNS. I think it'd be good.
Anyway, those were my Deep Thoughts of the morning. I shall offset it with the following quotes:
Conversations with Sara:
Me: I hate your face.
Sara: I hate you more.
Me: LIES. You cannot hate me. I am rainbows and clouds and lollipops and fairy farts.
SO THERE. AND FAIRIES FART GLITTER. SWEET, SWEET, MAGNOLIA-SCENTED GLITTER.
Sara: I was just about to ask. Thank you for not making me say "what do fairies fart?"
Me: No problem.
Things only heard at my house:
Dixie: Christina, it is not creepy. It's the Dalai Lama.