Why I dance … the short answer is, because I can. The longer answer is because 18 months ago I couldn’t ~ I didn’t have enough energy to walk 50m, let alone dance. I’d been in and out of hospital, had a blood transfusion and finally had an operation that left a not-really-very-disposable internal organ in a bowl.
Some people criticise me for never sitting down at socials, I don’t apologise for that. I literally care not-a-jot.
I dance now for all the times I couldn’t dance in the past and for the times I may not be able to in the future. I dance because it brings me joy. I dance because I lose myself and all the stresses of my life. Dancing was my focus and motivation on the long road to recovery. I push myself, because it may be taken away in an instance.
Dancing is joyful, it is when and although my nerves sometimes cripple me in competitions, I will keep going and strive to achieve. Because that also makes me happy.
When I was young I used to spend hours lying on my back watching the clouds go by, or I’d wander letting the pointiest edge the cloud tell me which way to go.
I’ve always been transfixed by clouds ~ I spend a lot of time staring out the window of a plane at them. They seem so solid, yet not. Calming.
These few are from my flights to and from Copenhagen this weekend
I love this image so much – it also amuses me a little too. I love how my reflection just curves top and bottom, off into infinity, front, back, front, back, almost to a point.
Today I was sat crying in the graveyard behind work, after hearing the devastating news my friend Mary had passed away unexpectedly. This very strange prancing mohicaned pony dog walked by and posed like this. She would have loved (and laughed at) this strange little dog.
Some people would say dancing is beautiful and graceful, and it is. It’s all that and more ~ it’s joyful and soul warming. But it’s brutal at the same time.
My dance teacher says when it starts to hurt is when you’re starting to dance. This is true when I rumba extending every muscle and sinew, to create a graceful line. It is also especially true when someone back heels you in a social dance, scraping you from ankle to floor. That fucking hurts!
This is what happened on Saturday night at the Rivoli ~ three days later the bruising has definitely developed and is working its way down my foot … *retch*
Last year I missed all the Spitalfields Tea Dances due to illness and recovering from the operation. This year I was determined to go to as many as possible and most definitely the last one of the season. I only ever go with Tony and I managed to persuade him [it wasn’t hard] to come to the last one of the year.
We met a few other people we know from our dancing circles and danced the lunch time away. I’ve started to venture into leading (without any lessons) which is even more tricky when you’re trying to navigate fifty odd other couples.
Michael even got Sharon and I to do a 6-legged rumba, which was great and stressful, especially when I had to lead (because I fucked-up). Looking forward to next season.
I had a bit of a rush to get out of the hotel this morning, so ended up doing my makeup in the (hire) car.
“Always do your Cupid Bow first” said the MAC makeup lady who helped me with my dance makeup earlier in the year. She definitely didn’t say “then turn it into a heart” … but this did amuse me… too much!