I have to say that all this working at work is cutting into my blogging time. In lieu of a better thought out post, here are some short notes on what's been going on with me:
a) Last Friday, I went out for dinner and music-listening with Pele and some friends. All night, I was a little "off." Things I said seemed to spark irritation rather than conversation. For example, I complained that my new co-ed sports team was made up of a group of strangers. One friend said, "What's wrong with that? If I were part of a team, I wouldn't want to get kicked off so strangers could join." I could see that she had a point, but I stuck to my guns. It wasn't exactly unfriendly, but it wasn't the most comfortable exchange either. What gives? Being right or wrong shouldn't matter in this context. Maybe it mattered a little too much to me.
b) Later the same evening, we went to listen to another friend DJ. Pele pointed out that the DJ was basically playing my record collection. I started to listen more closely and, indeed, I own the records (the actual vinyl LPs) for over 50% of the songs played. When his stint was done, I remarked to the DJ, "It was like you were playing my record collection!" He said, "Really? Great! If you have a party, I'll come over and spin." Now, it's not that I didn't appreciate the offer (it's kind of a cool idea) but it's not the reaction I expected. I thought he'd be impressed or offer me a compliment or ask about the records. I felt slightly disappointed but I'm not sure why.
c) Saturday morning, my outdoor soccer team had an informal practice. I rode my bike and managed to show up about 30 minutes late. The first thing someone said to me was, "You should take a lap to warm up—we all did." I said, "I'm warm, I rode my bike." I mean, really. It's practice. I rode my bike. Was I supposed to jog out of solidarity? My knees can't take that. Somehow I muddled through. And boy oh boy did I need the practice. I have about zero soccer skills and every little bit of drilling helps.
d) That night, I did nothing. I was tired from practice and had a game the next morning. My nothing involved moving books off shelves, doing all the bills, filing papers, knitting, watching football and cooking dinner. It was almost relaxing.
e) Sunday morning, I showed up early (on-time!) for my first co-ed indoor soccer game. It seemed easy compared to practice the previous day. While I'm not any better at this version of the game than outdoor, I did enjoy it and it's excellent exercise. The best I can say for myself is that I did nothing to cause major embarrassment. The teammates are friendly, and since we're all strangers, we're all on an equal footing. There's something to be said in favor of that. After the game I went grocery shopping. Can you spell excitement?
f) Monday after work I decided to go to this happy hour I've never been to sponsored by a group of which I'm a member. I went to the exact address on the email and the place wasn't there. I turned around and went home. Via some very minor internet detective work, I discovered that the place does exist, but the address they gave was one digit off: 2424 instead of 2524. Maybe next month!
g) Tuesday it was time for swing dance lessons again. Our last lesson (the place has been booked for other events the last three weeks) was the time I had the argument with one of my classmates. Last night, I worried about what would happen when faced with my "enemy." At first, I wasn't sure I'd recognize him but I sure did. He knew me too, at least I infer he did, because he very cleverly stood just to my right in the circle we form for class. By placing himself to my right, my enemy ensured that he'd dance with everyone else in the class before getting to me. In fact, our class is so large that we don't always make a full rotation. As it happened, my enemy and I never danced—one more rotation and we would have! Is he not the best enemy ever?
h) I enjoyed the non-class part of the evening due to a good band and a favorable ratio of competent to incompetent dancers. I danced with one fellow more than once and, for some reason, I told him my enemy story. Again, I was a little off. Oh well. CK was there too, which was great because I've been meaning to call her. We caught up and I told her about my enemy. She laughed and laughed. Triumph!
i) This morning, I got a call from an old grad school friend and she asked me to participate in a roundtable she is organizing for this year's professional association meetings. I gladly accepted and dashed off a very short "paper" (one page!) to reserve my space in her session. This is very good news because my name will be on the program and that's how I get my agency to pay for the trip. THEN I realized that the meeting is earlier than usual and that a good friend in Seattle is getting married the EXACT SAME WEEKEND. Well, damn. I don't know what I'm going to do about that.
k) In the interest of keeping work at the work place, that's it for today.
Grateful for: productivity.
Showing posts with label swing dance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label swing dance. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Short fuse
Last night was my swing dance lesson. I cannot tell you how hard it was for me to get myself there. Well, physically, it was easy, since I drove. But mentally? Hard, hard, hard.
I kept smiling and that helped. Most of the time, I enjoyed the lesson. The couple who teaches intersperses a lot of shtick with the actual lesson and I laughed. So far, so good. What was not good was a run-in with one of my partners.
The class is taught in a big circle. The women (followers) stay in place and the men (leaders) rotate from partner to partner. (The women could rotate—who does the actual rotating is inconsequential.) In this part of the lesson, each leader was to dance for one minute with each follower and then rotate. One of the instructors calls out "rotate!" when it's time.
My partner for this minute was a tall fellow dressed in jeans and a button down shirt. He had a prominent forehead and a receding hairline . He looked a bit like the guy who plays the father on "That 70's Show" except he was a brunette.
We get to dancing. He stomps on my foot. Now, my foot has been stepped many times at dances but very rarely by my partner. I say, "Ow!" He says, "Are you ok?" I say, "Yes." But I'm grumpy.
We keep dancing. He tells me, "You need to be more squared up to me."
Ok. I square myself. For this particular move, we are side-by-side and he has his right arm across my back. The lead requires that he give me a push with his right hand. But instead of resting a flat hand just below my shoulder blade, he tightly grips my waist. This is a common mistake and it can hurt.
I say, "It would help if you released that death grip on me."
He harrumphs and leads me to the next move. He says, "You have to hold your hands more like this."
I say, "Enough!"
He says, "What?"
I say, "Stop telling me what to do."
He says, "I'm just trying to help!"
I say, "I didn't ask you to help. Enough." I stop dancing and stand with my arms crossed until it's time to rotate.
He was a complete jerk. First, he stepped on me. He never apologized. Why not? Because he thought I was doing something wrong. But no other guys have stepped on me and I've been doing that move "wrong" all along. He was seriously hurting me with his steely claw of a hand, but, again, I was the problem.
Please. I'm the follower. If you lead correctly, I will follow. I dance with a lot of clumsy, inexperienced, nervous guys during the lesson and not one of them has tried to tell me what to do. Sometimes, if a move goes wrong, I'll say, "my timing was off" or "my steps are too big" and the guy will say, "no, it was me" or "I'm doing the same thing" because, we're in it together. Plus, we're taking the lesson so we don't need to instruct each other. If one of my partners asks me what's going wrong, and I think I know, I'll tell him. Otherwise, I keep my mouth shut. Even if you're hurting me! (I have a low tolerance for pain, but I can suffer for a minute or two.) If I haven't asked for help, then please don't offer it. This isn't life and death, it's dancing. No one but me and my feet and fatty tissue are going to get hurt.
After that, all my partners were easy and friendly and the usual mix of competent and clueless. Just like you would expect from a lesson.
When the lesson was over, I danced with a few people. I screwed up a few times and laughed and apologized. They laughed and shook it off. I tried to stay later but I just didn't want to be there. I wanted to be home in bed, which I was by 10:30pm. Sigh.
On another note, I was too lame to call my brother, but I did send email apologizing about forgetting his birthday. He was cool. Then he told me they're planning to be down here in January and did I have time to see them. Of course I said yes.
See, this is my problem with my brother. They've never made plans to come to visit me. And, yes, I've invited them (not for a specific occasion, but I've issued an open invitation more than once). Do they plan to come see me? No. Do they ever invite me to visit? No. I have to invite myself. They have other friends in Virginia, and they make plans to see them. They make plans to go to CA to see my sister-in-law's sister.
It's so frustrating to feel like I'm so low on his priority list. I guess I should talk to him about it but I can only imagine being made more unhappy by such a conversation. I've been stewing about this for the last who knows how many years—what's a few more weeks or months?
Man, I really need to perk up! I have not been in a movie-mood for weeks, but I've decided that X-mas weekend, will be an all movie weekend. AFI is playing a few classics and I have my eye on a few new releases. I'm going to a movie on Sat, Sun, Mon and Tues if it kills me! I might even go see a band on Sat night. Woo-hoo!
Those of you who know me, please get in touch. I have free passes for AFI. C'mon, you know you want to. I promise to be nice as long as you don't try to give me a dancing lesson.
Grateful for: the friendly dancers.
I kept smiling and that helped. Most of the time, I enjoyed the lesson. The couple who teaches intersperses a lot of shtick with the actual lesson and I laughed. So far, so good. What was not good was a run-in with one of my partners.
The class is taught in a big circle. The women (followers) stay in place and the men (leaders) rotate from partner to partner. (The women could rotate—who does the actual rotating is inconsequential.) In this part of the lesson, each leader was to dance for one minute with each follower and then rotate. One of the instructors calls out "rotate!" when it's time.
My partner for this minute was a tall fellow dressed in jeans and a button down shirt. He had a prominent forehead and a receding hairline . He looked a bit like the guy who plays the father on "That 70's Show" except he was a brunette.
We get to dancing. He stomps on my foot. Now, my foot has been stepped many times at dances but very rarely by my partner. I say, "Ow!" He says, "Are you ok?" I say, "Yes." But I'm grumpy.
We keep dancing. He tells me, "You need to be more squared up to me."
Ok. I square myself. For this particular move, we are side-by-side and he has his right arm across my back. The lead requires that he give me a push with his right hand. But instead of resting a flat hand just below my shoulder blade, he tightly grips my waist. This is a common mistake and it can hurt.
I say, "It would help if you released that death grip on me."
He harrumphs and leads me to the next move. He says, "You have to hold your hands more like this."
I say, "Enough!"
He says, "What?"
I say, "Stop telling me what to do."
He says, "I'm just trying to help!"
I say, "I didn't ask you to help. Enough." I stop dancing and stand with my arms crossed until it's time to rotate.
He was a complete jerk. First, he stepped on me. He never apologized. Why not? Because he thought I was doing something wrong. But no other guys have stepped on me and I've been doing that move "wrong" all along. He was seriously hurting me with his steely claw of a hand, but, again, I was the problem.
Please. I'm the follower. If you lead correctly, I will follow. I dance with a lot of clumsy, inexperienced, nervous guys during the lesson and not one of them has tried to tell me what to do. Sometimes, if a move goes wrong, I'll say, "my timing was off" or "my steps are too big" and the guy will say, "no, it was me" or "I'm doing the same thing" because, we're in it together. Plus, we're taking the lesson so we don't need to instruct each other. If one of my partners asks me what's going wrong, and I think I know, I'll tell him. Otherwise, I keep my mouth shut. Even if you're hurting me! (I have a low tolerance for pain, but I can suffer for a minute or two.) If I haven't asked for help, then please don't offer it. This isn't life and death, it's dancing. No one but me and my feet and fatty tissue are going to get hurt.
After that, all my partners were easy and friendly and the usual mix of competent and clueless. Just like you would expect from a lesson.
When the lesson was over, I danced with a few people. I screwed up a few times and laughed and apologized. They laughed and shook it off. I tried to stay later but I just didn't want to be there. I wanted to be home in bed, which I was by 10:30pm. Sigh.
On another note, I was too lame to call my brother, but I did send email apologizing about forgetting his birthday. He was cool. Then he told me they're planning to be down here in January and did I have time to see them. Of course I said yes.
See, this is my problem with my brother. They've never made plans to come to visit me. And, yes, I've invited them (not for a specific occasion, but I've issued an open invitation more than once). Do they plan to come see me? No. Do they ever invite me to visit? No. I have to invite myself. They have other friends in Virginia, and they make plans to see them. They make plans to go to CA to see my sister-in-law's sister.
It's so frustrating to feel like I'm so low on his priority list. I guess I should talk to him about it but I can only imagine being made more unhappy by such a conversation. I've been stewing about this for the last who knows how many years—what's a few more weeks or months?
Man, I really need to perk up! I have not been in a movie-mood for weeks, but I've decided that X-mas weekend, will be an all movie weekend. AFI is playing a few classics and I have my eye on a few new releases. I'm going to a movie on Sat, Sun, Mon and Tues if it kills me! I might even go see a band on Sat night. Woo-hoo!
Those of you who know me, please get in touch. I have free passes for AFI. C'mon, you know you want to. I promise to be nice as long as you don't try to give me a dancing lesson.
Grateful for: the friendly dancers.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Mini-stories
Dancing
I missed the first class in my series of eight lessons but I took the second class and was just fine. I've taken quite a few swing dance classes with the same instructors and I know a lot of the material. I was hoping that I'd be familiar with the material from first class and I was. I was relaxed and easy. I practiced my "smile at everyone" technique and everyone was very friendly. It's easy and it works.
The male-to-female ratio was perfect but the nerd quotient was high. Very high. I had a good time but left early. I was still tired from staying home sick most of the previous week. I'm looking forward to the next lesson.
No-show
Sue me, I skipped ushering. There's only so much a body can do.
Mega-fan
On Thursday, I went to my volunteer gig (reading to kids) after the second day of my conference. I had to plan the evening's activities, which I found a bit overwhelming in conception. However, the execution went rather well. We had fewer kids than last time, so fewer disruptions. We knew all the kids from last time, which meant everyone was more comfortable. The kids liked the books and the activity. I learned: I can plan an arts and crafts activity. My main principle: keep it simple, stupid. It worked.
After the volunteering, I hightailed it to Arlington to watch football with Pele and her boyfriend. No offense, Pele, but I know why the BF doesn't have people over more often—that place is a mess! However, I didn't care because the tv was HUGE and the couch was comfortable. Pele even ordered dinner for me! And the BF picked it up! He can keep that place as messy as he likes and it won't bother me one bit.
Finally, finally, the Redskins won. It was a relief. Pele told the BF that I'm a mega fan. He is a long time fan himself. I demurred and saying that following a team faithfully for one season does not make a mega fan. (Though I actually watched quite a few games last year.) He was amused. Me too.
No sale
On Friday, I was too lazy to go to the blogger happy hour—or was I too drunk? Probably both. I was also invited to a cocktail party at a neighbor's house. This was, in fact, a "sales" party at TR's house, organized by his wife. For the first part of the evening, TR was out with the kids and we ladies ate and drank and then listened to a sales pitch for high-end skin care products. I'm sure the products were all excellent but I just couldn't deal with it (i.e., buy anything). When TR eventually joined us, then retired to the kitchen to wash dishes, I followed him. We talked about work and football. A lot about football. TR asked my opinion about football. Bizarre.
Aside: I've been thinking a lot about the meaning of sport and why so many of us are attached to watching. First, I think it signals an ability to identify with something outside of oneself and the desire to be part of something larger than oneself. It's foolish, sure, but deeply meaningful. Second, it is about the best source of small talk ever! Yay sports!
Humorous epilogue: guess who spent $100 on high end skin care products at L'Occitane en Provence on Monday? (Shampoo, conditioner, toner, body wash and a present for Mom.) My usual source for such products (with the exception of the present) is the drug store and very occasionally the hair salon. I am a paradox.
Par-tay
On Saturday, I ended up with two party invites. One to the "party of mystery" and another from a work acquaintance. I spent most of the day hanging around the house slowly cleaning, knitting and watching dvds. I picked up my Seattle friend, Amanda, and her fiancé up from the airport around 7pm and took them home. We hung out for a while, but, as planned, I left for my parties around 9pm. (My exchange with Amanda about this went something like this:
Me: I feel bad taking you home and then just leaving you there.
Amanda: What, you don't trust us alone at your place?
Me: No! I feel like a bad host.
Amanda: Don't be silly.)
I drove to Arlington, to the work-acquaintance party. I was flying solo, but that was fine since I knew people where I was going. Upon arrival, I was greeted with a party of five (including me). Work friends, Nina, Danielle and Deirdre and the host, Bill, were the only other guests. I can't explain why, but I stayed there for the rest of the evening. I get along great with Bill, well with Danielle and so-so with Nina and Deirdre. Yet, Nina is my actual friend from this group. I can explain, but it's tiresome. I had a sufficiently entertaining time. Then I went home.
Brunchy
On Sunday morning, I took Amanda and her fiancé to Arlington (popular place!) to meet Amanda's brother for brunch. I joined them and it was fun. It's been years since I've seen Amanda's brother and I got to meet his kids too. After brunch and a little shopping, we parted ways. I let Amanda borrow the car for a couple days since she is also visiting friends in Baltimore and Annapolis. She'll come back to my place tonight—we're going to dinner. Hope she's enjoying driving the camper. Heh.
Wrap-up
This week is busy too. Last night, I went to a staged-reading of my playwright friend's newest play. Great, just as expected. Tonight, Amanda is staying with me. Tomorrow, I bake brownies. Thursday, I will probably skip a happy hour. Friday is our office party, at TR's place, which means a short day. Saturday, I drive to PA for a memorial service. Sunday, I drive home. Blah. I'm tired already.
Last week, as I mentioned, I sat in a conference for two days. I found it interesting and useful. About halfway through the second day, though, I started to fade. I started doodling and writing. I put my mind to an idea for a novel. Somehow, the background of a power point presentation is conducive to creativity. Perhaps it's because it doesn't insistently demand my attention like television.
What's great is that I came up with what might be a reasonable structure for a novel I would enjoy writing. It will be heavily (mostly) autobiographical, but it will be presented as fiction. That way I can fill in where I can't remember the actual events and dialog and I can drop/combine/create characters as needed. Plus, I have a gimmick. I've already written some unknown proportion of the novel via the blog, though the blog will not be part of the novel.
The real question is: when am I going to write this novel? And, I suppose, do I really want to write this novel? It used to be that when I got home, I set myself up with the computer and typed away while I watched tv. Now, I combine knitting with my tv watching and do very little writing at home or on the weekends. The knitting is deeply satisfying. The process is pleasurable and having something to show for it is awesome.
Have I traded the blog hobby for a knitting hobby? Perhaps. But, well, I'd like to think that I now have two awesome hobbies. Before, I could count reading and movies as hobbies, but they don't require the same amount of input, and don't result in the same level of satisfaction. (I guess you could classify my recreational sports activities as hobbies too, but they have a vastly different purpose.)
It's all a question of priorities. If the novel is the highest priority, then less time should be devoted to tv and knitting. I still have some thinking to do about this.
Of course, work is still phenomenally slow, which means if I were a tiny bit more efficient, a great deal of writing could be done at the office. It's possible that this is exactly how I wrote my dissertation. Don't quote me. (Dissertating also included many weekends and late nights at the office. It included very little time working from home.)
Off to the next event!
Grateful for: opportunities and inspiration.
I missed the first class in my series of eight lessons but I took the second class and was just fine. I've taken quite a few swing dance classes with the same instructors and I know a lot of the material. I was hoping that I'd be familiar with the material from first class and I was. I was relaxed and easy. I practiced my "smile at everyone" technique and everyone was very friendly. It's easy and it works.
The male-to-female ratio was perfect but the nerd quotient was high. Very high. I had a good time but left early. I was still tired from staying home sick most of the previous week. I'm looking forward to the next lesson.
No-show
Sue me, I skipped ushering. There's only so much a body can do.
Mega-fan
On Thursday, I went to my volunteer gig (reading to kids) after the second day of my conference. I had to plan the evening's activities, which I found a bit overwhelming in conception. However, the execution went rather well. We had fewer kids than last time, so fewer disruptions. We knew all the kids from last time, which meant everyone was more comfortable. The kids liked the books and the activity. I learned: I can plan an arts and crafts activity. My main principle: keep it simple, stupid. It worked.
After the volunteering, I hightailed it to Arlington to watch football with Pele and her boyfriend. No offense, Pele, but I know why the BF doesn't have people over more often—that place is a mess! However, I didn't care because the tv was HUGE and the couch was comfortable. Pele even ordered dinner for me! And the BF picked it up! He can keep that place as messy as he likes and it won't bother me one bit.
Finally, finally, the Redskins won. It was a relief. Pele told the BF that I'm a mega fan. He is a long time fan himself. I demurred and saying that following a team faithfully for one season does not make a mega fan. (Though I actually watched quite a few games last year.) He was amused. Me too.
No sale
On Friday, I was too lazy to go to the blogger happy hour—or was I too drunk? Probably both. I was also invited to a cocktail party at a neighbor's house. This was, in fact, a "sales" party at TR's house, organized by his wife. For the first part of the evening, TR was out with the kids and we ladies ate and drank and then listened to a sales pitch for high-end skin care products. I'm sure the products were all excellent but I just couldn't deal with it (i.e., buy anything). When TR eventually joined us, then retired to the kitchen to wash dishes, I followed him. We talked about work and football. A lot about football. TR asked my opinion about football. Bizarre.
Aside: I've been thinking a lot about the meaning of sport and why so many of us are attached to watching. First, I think it signals an ability to identify with something outside of oneself and the desire to be part of something larger than oneself. It's foolish, sure, but deeply meaningful. Second, it is about the best source of small talk ever! Yay sports!
Humorous epilogue: guess who spent $100 on high end skin care products at L'Occitane en Provence on Monday? (Shampoo, conditioner, toner, body wash and a present for Mom.) My usual source for such products (with the exception of the present) is the drug store and very occasionally the hair salon. I am a paradox.
Par-tay
On Saturday, I ended up with two party invites. One to the "party of mystery" and another from a work acquaintance. I spent most of the day hanging around the house slowly cleaning, knitting and watching dvds. I picked up my Seattle friend, Amanda, and her fiancé up from the airport around 7pm and took them home. We hung out for a while, but, as planned, I left for my parties around 9pm. (My exchange with Amanda about this went something like this:
Me: I feel bad taking you home and then just leaving you there.
Amanda: What, you don't trust us alone at your place?
Me: No! I feel like a bad host.
Amanda: Don't be silly.)
I drove to Arlington, to the work-acquaintance party. I was flying solo, but that was fine since I knew people where I was going. Upon arrival, I was greeted with a party of five (including me). Work friends, Nina, Danielle and Deirdre and the host, Bill, were the only other guests. I can't explain why, but I stayed there for the rest of the evening. I get along great with Bill, well with Danielle and so-so with Nina and Deirdre. Yet, Nina is my actual friend from this group. I can explain, but it's tiresome. I had a sufficiently entertaining time. Then I went home.
Brunchy
On Sunday morning, I took Amanda and her fiancé to Arlington (popular place!) to meet Amanda's brother for brunch. I joined them and it was fun. It's been years since I've seen Amanda's brother and I got to meet his kids too. After brunch and a little shopping, we parted ways. I let Amanda borrow the car for a couple days since she is also visiting friends in Baltimore and Annapolis. She'll come back to my place tonight—we're going to dinner. Hope she's enjoying driving the camper. Heh.
Wrap-up
This week is busy too. Last night, I went to a staged-reading of my playwright friend's newest play. Great, just as expected. Tonight, Amanda is staying with me. Tomorrow, I bake brownies. Thursday, I will probably skip a happy hour. Friday is our office party, at TR's place, which means a short day. Saturday, I drive to PA for a memorial service. Sunday, I drive home. Blah. I'm tired already.
Last week, as I mentioned, I sat in a conference for two days. I found it interesting and useful. About halfway through the second day, though, I started to fade. I started doodling and writing. I put my mind to an idea for a novel. Somehow, the background of a power point presentation is conducive to creativity. Perhaps it's because it doesn't insistently demand my attention like television.
What's great is that I came up with what might be a reasonable structure for a novel I would enjoy writing. It will be heavily (mostly) autobiographical, but it will be presented as fiction. That way I can fill in where I can't remember the actual events and dialog and I can drop/combine/create characters as needed. Plus, I have a gimmick. I've already written some unknown proportion of the novel via the blog, though the blog will not be part of the novel.
The real question is: when am I going to write this novel? And, I suppose, do I really want to write this novel? It used to be that when I got home, I set myself up with the computer and typed away while I watched tv. Now, I combine knitting with my tv watching and do very little writing at home or on the weekends. The knitting is deeply satisfying. The process is pleasurable and having something to show for it is awesome.
Have I traded the blog hobby for a knitting hobby? Perhaps. But, well, I'd like to think that I now have two awesome hobbies. Before, I could count reading and movies as hobbies, but they don't require the same amount of input, and don't result in the same level of satisfaction. (I guess you could classify my recreational sports activities as hobbies too, but they have a vastly different purpose.)
It's all a question of priorities. If the novel is the highest priority, then less time should be devoted to tv and knitting. I still have some thinking to do about this.
Of course, work is still phenomenally slow, which means if I were a tiny bit more efficient, a great deal of writing could be done at the office. It's possible that this is exactly how I wrote my dissertation. Don't quote me. (Dissertating also included many weekends and late nights at the office. It included very little time working from home.)
Off to the next event!
Grateful for: opportunities and inspiration.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Out
This weekend, I could have spent the entire time on the sofa, knitting (despite the pain), but I didn't. Saturday morning, there was soccer. My team kicks ass. I am mostly dead weight…well, I'm more like mild drag, but it doesn't matter since our offense is incredibly strong. We have one more game to play, and if we win, it will be an undefeated (one tie) season. I got very lucky in being put on this team—not just because they're so good but because they're a friendly, generous group. Maybe that's easier if you win all the time. I wouldn't know, never having been on a winning team.
After the game, it would have been so easy to stay home. I had an invite to a party, but there were two strikes against the party: 1) everyone there would almost certainly be at least ten years younger than me and 2) the party had a theme: "bad taste." I consider myself particular ill-suited to attend a party with such a theme. I'm sensitive to crudeness and based on the pic sent out with the evite, crudeness would about.
My other option was to go see a band playing (more or less) in my neighborhood. I'm acquainted with about half the members of this band and I like their music.
Still, I was leaning towards the party because it's easier to meet people at parties. I have arely met people in a bar watching a band. Mostly because it's too damn loud to talk.
I was on the fence and damn close to staying in when I got a call from Pele. It's through Pele that I know the band. She wasn't going but she reminded me about the show and said a mutual friend wanted me to go. That made it easy and I went to see the band.
Good for me, right? Well, I talked to about three people, folks I already know and left about three songs into the set of the band after "my" band. Still, I left the house and that was the best I could do. I did consider going to the party after—showing up late and empty handed is in bad taste, right? But I didn't.
Sunday was more eventful. While on my way to get some breakfast, DrJ called and asked if I wanted to see a movie. I did but I also felt compelled to watch football. I tentatively suggested we watch the game together and she agreed. So we did. Perhaps not the best use of a sunny, perfectly temperatured day, but what can you do?
That evening, I was scheduled to work the door at a swing dance (take the money for 45 minutes in exchange for free admittance). The dance was at the very place where I met SL. That gave me some , but I was sure he wasn't in the band—and he wasn't and it was fine.
Not many folks came so I didn't dance very much. I was beat and happy to go home early.
As I walked to the garage where I'd parked my car (my car! Not the flexcar! Crazy.), a man said, "Hello!" I said, "Hi," smiled and kept walking. He was a good-looking guy, tall, probably around 40 and possibly Ethiopian. I crossed the street and I heard someone call after me. I looked back and it was the guy—he'd followed me down the block. He said, "Would you like to get a drink?"
I said, "No, I have to get home."
"We can play pool, whatever you like!"
I said, "No thank you!"
He turned and left. It was creepy and flattering. While it's nice to get attention, and the guy wasn't scary, it's not nice to have strange men follow you to parking garages. To my relief, he was gone before I actually entered the garage.
Despite the lack of meeting people this weekend, I'm determined to push myself to go out a little more. It's getting colder and it's tempting to start hibernating at home with tv and knitting, but it's too lonely. I'm going to start saying yes to every invitation that strikes me as interesting. I'm not going to force myself to do things that make me feel uncomfortable, but I will attend happy hours and events that trickle randomly into my inbox. At least until it wears me out—then I'll take a break and regroup.
I think that's a good plan—be busy for the next two weeks and then take a break for Thanksgiving. I like that!
This is the thing, I find myself asking, "why not me?" while reading blogs by people who were single when I started reading and are now happily dating. [Good news is that this thought doesn't occur to me in relation to my real-life friends.] I've been writing this blog for almost three years and reading others for nearly that long. So, over the past three years, what has changed?
Lots. I've had a few boyfriends over the last few years. I've had several crushes and dozens (!) of dates. Blech. I feel like I want to retire. My desire for a relationship hasn't lessened but my desire to deal with the muck of dating has. I'm ready to fully resign from internet-based dating since it's never worked well for me. But I feel I should push myself a little into new social situations. I still like people, I still want a boyfriend and I actually think my screening mechanisms are better than ever. That is, I'm going to make better choices about who I get involved with than ever before. (I'd blame this long boyfriend-free hiatus on that, but the last boyfriend-free hiatus was almost as long and I wasn't busy claiming better judgment in that period.)
My last few involvements have proved that—at least to me. Remember Kansas? No? Yeah, me too. He is gone and I don't miss him. And SL? Yes, he was crazy, but I stayed involved with him for as long as it suited me—or perhaps just a tiny bit longer—and then I ended it. I even went on one ill-conceived date with Tim last summer, and I rejected his request for friendship. I had several dates with Kenny, but when it became clear we weren't well-suited, he just faded away. Excellent screening, I think. Lord, I hope I'm not telling the same old sad story over and over. At least my enthusiasm is undiminished when it comes to meeting new people. What has diminished is my initial emotional investment when I meet a new guy. I'm hanging back a little more at the start, just watching and waiting.
In each of these cases, I've made the right decision. I've limited my involvement and I've gotten out clean. Good for me! I have the feeling, the hope, that the next time I get a chance to date someone I like, I'll make a good decision. But I'm getting tired of waiting for the opportunity to test my decision making skills.
My impatience worries me. It's my impatience, my frustration, that propels me into bad situations. I don't want to waste time in relationships that I will regret. As long as I enjoy myself while I'm with the guy, I won't count it as a waste even if it doesn't last. But no more half-assing it with guys who aren't worth my time. I'm willing to work and weather hard times but I'm not willing to jump into relationships that start out with equal parts fun and work. It better be a whole lot of fun at the get-go or I'm not getting gone.
So, here I am, busy trusting my judgment, listening to my gut and ready to be happy. Now what?
Grateful for: a good attitude (mostly).
After the game, it would have been so easy to stay home. I had an invite to a party, but there were two strikes against the party: 1) everyone there would almost certainly be at least ten years younger than me and 2) the party had a theme: "bad taste." I consider myself particular ill-suited to attend a party with such a theme. I'm sensitive to crudeness and based on the pic sent out with the evite, crudeness would about.
My other option was to go see a band playing (more or less) in my neighborhood. I'm acquainted with about half the members of this band and I like their music.
Still, I was leaning towards the party because it's easier to meet people at parties. I have arely met people in a bar watching a band. Mostly because it's too damn loud to talk.
I was on the fence and damn close to staying in when I got a call from Pele. It's through Pele that I know the band. She wasn't going but she reminded me about the show and said a mutual friend wanted me to go. That made it easy and I went to see the band.
Good for me, right? Well, I talked to about three people, folks I already know and left about three songs into the set of the band after "my" band. Still, I left the house and that was the best I could do. I did consider going to the party after—showing up late and empty handed is in bad taste, right? But I didn't.
Sunday was more eventful. While on my way to get some breakfast, DrJ called and asked if I wanted to see a movie. I did but I also felt compelled to watch football. I tentatively suggested we watch the game together and she agreed. So we did. Perhaps not the best use of a sunny, perfectly temperatured day, but what can you do?
That evening, I was scheduled to work the door at a swing dance (take the money for 45 minutes in exchange for free admittance). The dance was at the very place where I met SL. That gave me some , but I was sure he wasn't in the band—and he wasn't and it was fine.
Not many folks came so I didn't dance very much. I was beat and happy to go home early.
As I walked to the garage where I'd parked my car (my car! Not the flexcar! Crazy.), a man said, "Hello!" I said, "Hi," smiled and kept walking. He was a good-looking guy, tall, probably around 40 and possibly Ethiopian. I crossed the street and I heard someone call after me. I looked back and it was the guy—he'd followed me down the block. He said, "Would you like to get a drink?"
I said, "No, I have to get home."
"We can play pool, whatever you like!"
I said, "No thank you!"
He turned and left. It was creepy and flattering. While it's nice to get attention, and the guy wasn't scary, it's not nice to have strange men follow you to parking garages. To my relief, he was gone before I actually entered the garage.
Despite the lack of meeting people this weekend, I'm determined to push myself to go out a little more. It's getting colder and it's tempting to start hibernating at home with tv and knitting, but it's too lonely. I'm going to start saying yes to every invitation that strikes me as interesting. I'm not going to force myself to do things that make me feel uncomfortable, but I will attend happy hours and events that trickle randomly into my inbox. At least until it wears me out—then I'll take a break and regroup.
I think that's a good plan—be busy for the next two weeks and then take a break for Thanksgiving. I like that!
This is the thing, I find myself asking, "why not me?" while reading blogs by people who were single when I started reading and are now happily dating. [Good news is that this thought doesn't occur to me in relation to my real-life friends.] I've been writing this blog for almost three years and reading others for nearly that long. So, over the past three years, what has changed?
Lots. I've had a few boyfriends over the last few years. I've had several crushes and dozens (!) of dates. Blech. I feel like I want to retire. My desire for a relationship hasn't lessened but my desire to deal with the muck of dating has. I'm ready to fully resign from internet-based dating since it's never worked well for me. But I feel I should push myself a little into new social situations. I still like people, I still want a boyfriend and I actually think my screening mechanisms are better than ever. That is, I'm going to make better choices about who I get involved with than ever before. (I'd blame this long boyfriend-free hiatus on that, but the last boyfriend-free hiatus was almost as long and I wasn't busy claiming better judgment in that period.)
My last few involvements have proved that—at least to me. Remember Kansas? No? Yeah, me too. He is gone and I don't miss him. And SL? Yes, he was crazy, but I stayed involved with him for as long as it suited me—or perhaps just a tiny bit longer—and then I ended it. I even went on one ill-conceived date with Tim last summer, and I rejected his request for friendship. I had several dates with Kenny, but when it became clear we weren't well-suited, he just faded away. Excellent screening, I think. Lord, I hope I'm not telling the same old sad story over and over. At least my enthusiasm is undiminished when it comes to meeting new people. What has diminished is my initial emotional investment when I meet a new guy. I'm hanging back a little more at the start, just watching and waiting.
In each of these cases, I've made the right decision. I've limited my involvement and I've gotten out clean. Good for me! I have the feeling, the hope, that the next time I get a chance to date someone I like, I'll make a good decision. But I'm getting tired of waiting for the opportunity to test my decision making skills.
My impatience worries me. It's my impatience, my frustration, that propels me into bad situations. I don't want to waste time in relationships that I will regret. As long as I enjoy myself while I'm with the guy, I won't count it as a waste even if it doesn't last. But no more half-assing it with guys who aren't worth my time. I'm willing to work and weather hard times but I'm not willing to jump into relationships that start out with equal parts fun and work. It better be a whole lot of fun at the get-go or I'm not getting gone.
So, here I am, busy trusting my judgment, listening to my gut and ready to be happy. Now what?
Grateful for: a good attitude (mostly).
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Where to begin
The moral of this story is: it's good to leave the house.
What is the story? Short version: I got three pick ups on Sunday.
The long version follows:
As you may recall, if you read my last post (did you read it? The silence was deafening!), a fellow driving a white Caddy (or Lincoln) asked for my phone number while I was biking to a bar to watch football.
That was pick up number one. Perhaps it doesn't count because I would never give my number to anyone under those circumstances but it turned out to be the beginning of a trend.
I went home after the first half of the football game and lazed around, as was my plan for Sunday afternoon. My plan for Sunday evening was to go swing dancing. I'd committed myself to 45 minutes of volunteering at the door (taking money, handing out wristbands) in exchange for free admission. I wondered why I'd agreed, since 45 minutes is a big chuck of a two-hour dance. Turns out it was a darn good thing I'd volunteered because there is no way I would have gotten my ass out the door at 8pm on a Sunday otherwise.
I got to the dance, chatted with the guy working at the door (a co-volunteer), and drank a diet coke while I watched the end of the lesson. When the band started, I was asked to dance immediately and had a good time. My attempt to keep a smile on my face at all times wasn't as successful as last weekend, but I did my best.
While I sat out one dance, I noticed the bass player and thought he was kinda cute. As it happened, my volunteer shift coincided with the band's break. The guys from the band milled around at the bar right in front of where I was stationed at a table covered with flyers advertising future dances. I thought, "I wonder if he'll come talk to me since we're both 'working'." Sure enough, the bass player saw me, smiled at me and came over and talked to me.
We had a friendly chat in the course of which he mentioned that he's from Mexico and I mentioned that I sort of speak Spanish. He said, "I can help you practice your Spanish!" He repeated himself in Spanish and I responded awkwardly. He told me my accent was good and said, "I'll give you my number and we can practice!" He was then called back to play and I remained at my station.
When my shift ended and I went back to dance, I found myself awkwardly smiling and distractedly watching my new friend, the bass player.
One of the fellows I danced with over the course of the evening was a young guy who, when he asked me to dance said, "I'm just a beginner." His timing was off but he knew how to lead a turn and I said, "Do you do any other dancing?"
He said, "Salsa!"
I said, "I thought so! Your leads are good but the footwork is off—the footwork is different."
Towards the end of the evening, he asked me to dance again—the last dance, in fact. After the song ended and the band started to pack up (I had my eye on the bass player, wondering if he would, in fact, give me his number), the salsa guy chatted with me while I changed my shoes.
"You have the serious shoes! You must really like to dance. You must dance a lot."
I said, "Well, that was the plan when I bought them but I haven't been dancing so much recently. But they weren't very expensive."
"Why haven't you been dancing?"
"I dunno. Life?"
"Are you going dancing again this week?"
"Hmm. Probably not. I'm busy…well, I'm leaving town on Saturday…"
"So, you should go dancing…one night!"
"Well, I have to pack and get ready…"
"How long does it take to pack? Where are you going?"
"I'm going to Seattle for a week then I'm driving across the country."
"You don't need a week to pack!"
"No, no, but I like to be home the week before I go on a long trip. I miss it."
"You miss it? Why? Do you have a boyfriend or a husband? What do you miss?"
"No, I don't have a boyfriend or a husband. I have a cat. But I just miss being at home, that's all."
"Are you saying you don't even have time for coffee this week? You can't meet me for coffee?" He smiled.
Honestly, it wasn't until then that I realized what was going on. I was half watching the bass player during our exchange and I wasn't getting a vibe from the salsa guy. I started laughing.
"Why are you laughing? Is there a place to have coffee near where you live?"
"There is." I named a place and we agreed to meet there on Wednesday. I kept laughing. I said, "Don't you want my number?"
He said, "Sure!" and handed me his phone and I put in my number.
We said goodnight and he left. I immediately walked over to the bass player. "Hi!"
He said, "Hi! Jamy! Oh, so, let me give you my number…" He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, seemingly pre-written, that had his name, number and email. Underneath his name was written "(Spanish lessons)".
I was puzzled. I said, "Spanish lessons?"
He said, "They're free! Yes, yes, call me and we can practice."
I said, "Um, ok! Goodnight! Good set! Bye!" I got out of there as fast as I could.
The upshot is, I have a date on Wednesday, presuming he shows. He better because I'm not going to stand him up, even though I see no future there. On the upside, he is a cutie. I guess I should call the Spanish lessons/bass player because I actually liked him and it would be good to make contact before I leave town forever. But the Spanish lessons thing? It threw me. I once had an experience that left me asking, "When is a date not a date?" And answering, "When it's a Spanish lesson." (That's a story for another time.) Could it be another case where I'm mistaking a desire to help me learn Spanish? I have no idea. I guess I should call and find out.
Last, I hate to post with no recognition of the meaning of today, September 11. Like last year, I couldn't bring myself to write anything somber, so I'll just link to the post from 2005 and if you want to read something about 9/11, you can. I also found an old movie review I wrote for 25th Hour (link), which actually has a 9/11 theme. It was my first attempt at writing a review, so it's a little rough, but on theme for the day. That's the best I can do.
Grateful for: sudden popularity.
What is the story? Short version: I got three pick ups on Sunday.
The long version follows:
As you may recall, if you read my last post (did you read it? The silence was deafening!), a fellow driving a white Caddy (or Lincoln) asked for my phone number while I was biking to a bar to watch football.
That was pick up number one. Perhaps it doesn't count because I would never give my number to anyone under those circumstances but it turned out to be the beginning of a trend.
I went home after the first half of the football game and lazed around, as was my plan for Sunday afternoon. My plan for Sunday evening was to go swing dancing. I'd committed myself to 45 minutes of volunteering at the door (taking money, handing out wristbands) in exchange for free admission. I wondered why I'd agreed, since 45 minutes is a big chuck of a two-hour dance. Turns out it was a darn good thing I'd volunteered because there is no way I would have gotten my ass out the door at 8pm on a Sunday otherwise.
I got to the dance, chatted with the guy working at the door (a co-volunteer), and drank a diet coke while I watched the end of the lesson. When the band started, I was asked to dance immediately and had a good time. My attempt to keep a smile on my face at all times wasn't as successful as last weekend, but I did my best.
While I sat out one dance, I noticed the bass player and thought he was kinda cute. As it happened, my volunteer shift coincided with the band's break. The guys from the band milled around at the bar right in front of where I was stationed at a table covered with flyers advertising future dances. I thought, "I wonder if he'll come talk to me since we're both 'working'." Sure enough, the bass player saw me, smiled at me and came over and talked to me.
We had a friendly chat in the course of which he mentioned that he's from Mexico and I mentioned that I sort of speak Spanish. He said, "I can help you practice your Spanish!" He repeated himself in Spanish and I responded awkwardly. He told me my accent was good and said, "I'll give you my number and we can practice!" He was then called back to play and I remained at my station.
When my shift ended and I went back to dance, I found myself awkwardly smiling and distractedly watching my new friend, the bass player.
One of the fellows I danced with over the course of the evening was a young guy who, when he asked me to dance said, "I'm just a beginner." His timing was off but he knew how to lead a turn and I said, "Do you do any other dancing?"
He said, "Salsa!"
I said, "I thought so! Your leads are good but the footwork is off—the footwork is different."
Towards the end of the evening, he asked me to dance again—the last dance, in fact. After the song ended and the band started to pack up (I had my eye on the bass player, wondering if he would, in fact, give me his number), the salsa guy chatted with me while I changed my shoes.
"You have the serious shoes! You must really like to dance. You must dance a lot."
I said, "Well, that was the plan when I bought them but I haven't been dancing so much recently. But they weren't very expensive."
"Why haven't you been dancing?"
"I dunno. Life?"
"Are you going dancing again this week?"
"Hmm. Probably not. I'm busy…well, I'm leaving town on Saturday…"
"So, you should go dancing…one night!"
"Well, I have to pack and get ready…"
"How long does it take to pack? Where are you going?"
"I'm going to Seattle for a week then I'm driving across the country."
"You don't need a week to pack!"
"No, no, but I like to be home the week before I go on a long trip. I miss it."
"You miss it? Why? Do you have a boyfriend or a husband? What do you miss?"
"No, I don't have a boyfriend or a husband. I have a cat. But I just miss being at home, that's all."
"Are you saying you don't even have time for coffee this week? You can't meet me for coffee?" He smiled.
Honestly, it wasn't until then that I realized what was going on. I was half watching the bass player during our exchange and I wasn't getting a vibe from the salsa guy. I started laughing.
"Why are you laughing? Is there a place to have coffee near where you live?"
"There is." I named a place and we agreed to meet there on Wednesday. I kept laughing. I said, "Don't you want my number?"
He said, "Sure!" and handed me his phone and I put in my number.
We said goodnight and he left. I immediately walked over to the bass player. "Hi!"
He said, "Hi! Jamy! Oh, so, let me give you my number…" He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, seemingly pre-written, that had his name, number and email. Underneath his name was written "(Spanish lessons)".
I was puzzled. I said, "Spanish lessons?"
He said, "They're free! Yes, yes, call me and we can practice."
I said, "Um, ok! Goodnight! Good set! Bye!" I got out of there as fast as I could.
The upshot is, I have a date on Wednesday, presuming he shows. He better because I'm not going to stand him up, even though I see no future there. On the upside, he is a cutie. I guess I should call the Spanish lessons/bass player because I actually liked him and it would be good to make contact before I leave town forever. But the Spanish lessons thing? It threw me. I once had an experience that left me asking, "When is a date not a date?" And answering, "When it's a Spanish lesson." (That's a story for another time.) Could it be another case where I'm mistaking a desire to help me learn Spanish? I have no idea. I guess I should call and find out.
Last, I hate to post with no recognition of the meaning of today, September 11. Like last year, I couldn't bring myself to write anything somber, so I'll just link to the post from 2005 and if you want to read something about 9/11, you can. I also found an old movie review I wrote for 25th Hour (link), which actually has a 9/11 theme. It was my first attempt at writing a review, so it's a little rough, but on theme for the day. That's the best I can do.
Grateful for: sudden popularity.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Smile
Among many other things I did this weekend, I went swing dancing. It was the first time for a long time and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. A couple of things added to the fun. First, I went with CK. Fun, in and of itself, but particularly beneficial was that I got all her turn-downs. CK is quite the swing dance regular these days and is in high demand. However, she had to say no to several offers either because she was changing her shoes, taking a break or heading to the ladies room. Who was there to pick up the slack? Yours truly, thank-you-very-much. Since CK is a known good dancer, all the fellas asking her to dance were good dancers. Thus, I had the privilege of dancing with quite a few very good and excellent dancers. I like that.
The second thing I did was to acquire a good attitude. My bad attitude (fear of dealing with the scary guys, mostly) has kept me away from swing dancing for quite a while. This time, I decided that no matter what was happening, no matter how bad a dancer the guy was or how much I was screwing up, I would keep a smile plastered on my face. The smile had a couple of effects. Just the act of smiling can cheer one up, so when I missed a beat or a lead, I kept smiling and often laughed (the laughing is normal for me) and remained cheerful. I also figured that my dance partners would notice what a good sport I was and be encouraged to dance with me again. Additionally, others who noticed me dancing, would see that smile and be more likely to ask me to dance.
I'd say this strategy paid off because I didn't sit out more than one dance the entire evening. Also, I noticed guys who didn't smile with other partners, did smile when they danced with me. See, I spread joy wherever I go.
It wasn't too difficult to pull this off, but it did take some conscious thought. When I dance, especially after a long lay-off, I have to concentrate and that can lead to a more intense, focused expression—not a big, broad smile. The new strategy was well worth it. I focused on smiling, keeping a strong frame (the better to be lead) and taking smaller steps. With those three things in mind, my dancing steadily improved over the course of the evening. I'm definitely going back next weekend—my enthusiasm for this activity has returned!
Grateful for: a good attitude.
The second thing I did was to acquire a good attitude. My bad attitude (fear of dealing with the scary guys, mostly) has kept me away from swing dancing for quite a while. This time, I decided that no matter what was happening, no matter how bad a dancer the guy was or how much I was screwing up, I would keep a smile plastered on my face. The smile had a couple of effects. Just the act of smiling can cheer one up, so when I missed a beat or a lead, I kept smiling and often laughed (the laughing is normal for me) and remained cheerful. I also figured that my dance partners would notice what a good sport I was and be encouraged to dance with me again. Additionally, others who noticed me dancing, would see that smile and be more likely to ask me to dance.
I'd say this strategy paid off because I didn't sit out more than one dance the entire evening. Also, I noticed guys who didn't smile with other partners, did smile when they danced with me. See, I spread joy wherever I go.
It wasn't too difficult to pull this off, but it did take some conscious thought. When I dance, especially after a long lay-off, I have to concentrate and that can lead to a more intense, focused expression—not a big, broad smile. The new strategy was well worth it. I focused on smiling, keeping a strong frame (the better to be lead) and taking smaller steps. With those three things in mind, my dancing steadily improved over the course of the evening. I'm definitely going back next weekend—my enthusiasm for this activity has returned!
Grateful for: a good attitude.
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