| Friday |
| swing to the music |
My return to swing dancing after two full weeks of deconditioning proved that practice makes perfect. Ditching the only lead in our swing dancing group (who didn’t want to make an appearance ‘cause he couldn’t be bothered), my friend and i bravely travelled into the city to the usual swing club, risking a night of sitting and observing. Walking clumsily up the flight of stairs into a familiar room dully lit, we glanced around in hope of bumping into friends we knew from uni. My heart sunk after the first five minutes when we realised we were the young ones amongst a whole bunch of mature-aged dancers. Great. Fortunately, after another few minutes of small talk, people we knew started appearing.
Slightly disappointed at my own feeling of inadequacy due to my little attempt to revise the swing moves recently, i allowed myself to slump onto a vintage couch for the first half an hour, observing the experts prance around confidently on the dance floors, strutting their moves.
After the long thirty minutes, a guy asked me to dance. Delighted to get off my bum, i smiled and took off my jacket and he took my hand. i’ve danced with him couple of weeks ago, and that time, he led me slowly and beautifully, understanding that i was only a beginner. But this time he was a little rough; starting with an 8-beat basic which i struggled to keep count of half the time. Whilst i love being spun around, he was simply too rough for me. Thanking one another courteously after the rather horribly followed-dance on my behalf, i returned to my crater for a few quiet minutes of observations with the feeling of inadequacy weighing heavily over my head.
Several more songs went by without much action, until a friend came up to me. He had promised to teach me the 8-beat basic before and he lived up to it. Escaping the conversation smothering room of loud speakers, he took me outside into the lane way. We laughed loudly at my semi-unco initial attempt at duplicating the moves, at his struggle with coming up with the follow’s moves and the sausage in a hotdog analogy – where the girl walks on the sausage and the boy circulates on the bun. After mastering the follow’s move, i asked him to teach me the lead’s part – so that i could attempt to teach the boys who didn’t come. Struggling very badly with even obtaining the starting position and with his height as he went under my arm, i gave up. But I can say quite confidently that i am equipped with the knowledge of both parts; at least for the next 72 hours without any practice. We returned to the packed dance floor and practiced the basics with music. A very well-led dance i must admit, with plenty of turns and spins, and i was complimented on my ability to follow.
Overall, a slow-to-kick-off night which ended happily with laughter and achievement. I must practice the two Charlestons, 6-beat and 8-beat before my next appearance! But that won’t be next week anymore, due to an unforeseen Christmas dinner for work; one that i cannot possibly miss again. |
posted by sciurine @ 5:50 PM   |
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Thoughts, ...flowing slowly and gracefully, ...awakening the senses, ...keeping you up in the night, I sometimes wonder why people write. To express? To reflect? To be heard? I write, to free myself from a world of thoughts.
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