Hello [swing dance] world. (Some CS humor from the girl who failed miserably in Java Script).
Anyways, it’s taken a while to recuperate from the Lindy Focus high, gotta say. I came out from the week’s worth of dancer boot camp with more than a few sore points. Missing my class with Laura Glaess, never saying the right thing in class, getting pointed out for an elbow in a turn that could poke a lead’s eye out. I’m quite sure I only danced with “famous” leads in class. They really take the time to tear you down before they build you up down in Asheville.
I can say I’m determined to dance. For what? I’m not sure, but can passion ever really be explained? These last couple of months have been heavy on travel with endless practices and ridiculous amounts of teamwork. I wanted to quit several times and shed more than a few selfish tears. Whatever dance you choose to live in, you’re limited by your own hard work. Just as a prepared student spends hours learning before the exam to ace it, it’s taken me far too long to realize sweat pays off.
That’s just it. I want to be worth my weight in sweat, in determination and tenacity. It’s a temporary, low-cost sacrifice for a long-term payoff. I’m so very tired of being mediocre or judging my dancing by what others think. I finally realize how important it is to develop my own voice, to express and hold my own notes.
I’ve never been an excellent dancer. I’ve always been the complainer, convinced that my problems were special or somehow worth more. In reality, it was a matter of ego. If I had spent half the time I stressed logging hours into practice or research into jazz structure, my dancing would look quite different.
After our latest local workshop, I’m far away from the usual post-dance buzz. Instead, I’m hungering for something substantial and grounded in my dancing. Something I can hold onto. I lived for the highs, a junkie who never left a venue until I had that one “perfect” dance, whatever that meant. What I’ve come to realize is that low points teach me so much more about my dancing.
They keep me grounded.