End of story.

Hey, you.

Hey.

***

After dancing for so long, I never knew that one could ever feel like this.

Dancing, as you probably might have guessed, has been an integral part of my life for the past 4 or so years. Love it, hate it, been inspired by it, got completely put off by it, longing for it, dreading it. Such a whirlwind of emotions, to be completely transparent about it.

Dance has taken me to different heights, different events, different costumes, different ways of twisting my mind so that I could plan routines, get frustrated at dancers, absolutely adore dancers, try and suck up to dancers so they would teach me some different moves. I remembered my first time ever dancing a ballroom and latin competition in actual formal ballroom gear and I felt like I’d join the high-flying elite club where everyone swirls around the dance floor ala Victorian dance times. Latin was always a favourite and competitive latin allowed me to show my hips that sometimes, people thought were too “active” to be actually masculine.

Dance made me stand up in front of a crowd of over 400 people as I twinkle-toed in a spotlight with my dance partner and I swayed and carried her over the dance floor. Dance helped me shut out the world and focus solely on her and her alone, the music, my body, and me.

The end result, to put it simply, was poetic.

Last night after beginner’s rueda, Papa P came up and asked me whether I was keen to do a routine for the Salsa Congress next year and look at competing the year after. 

I was thrilled.

But honestly, after so many weeks and days and rehearsals and practices and sometimes, letdowns….believe it or not…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m actually sick of dancing.

Yeah. I know.

In my mind, I’m thinking, “Enough of practices, enough of routines and moves and technique and footwork and trying to match it to a piece of music or whatever’s playing on the sound system. That’s it.”

And in classic melodramatic dramamama mode, I would stomp off the polished floors in my cuban heels.

+)

Now that actually made me smile a little. Who knows, pink feather boas and “oh, daaaaaaaaaarling!” coming right up!

NotSoBlonde mentioned that I might have overdone it when I told her I was contemplating taking a break from ballroom and general dancing. She did say that if she was to maintain a “dance a MINIMUM of 5 days a week” schedule, she would go a little mad too.

So I guess its not just me, then.

But you know, weekend after weekend of practice and routines and figuring out moves and stuff is starting to grind on me just a little.

Maybe that’s why I stopped planning a routine completely after the “El Tango de Roxanne” routine last year.

True, I did another one beginning this year and that was a bit of a lucky break but now, I’m just a little bit tired.

What I really want to do is curl up in my blanket and mumble, “I’m tired, goway.”

In the near future, I’ll probably take a brief break from ballroom. I don’t think I can forget the shapes of my routines too quickly. Technique will probably go down the drain faster than you can say, “John Jacob Peter Piper Schmidt!” but oh well.

You know, there used to be such fun and enjoyment in dancing. There used to be like sweat drenched comfort in spinning it out on the dance floor and just to keep going and going and going and let the music take you places.

Or perhaps, am I taking dance too seriously once and for all? With competitions and whatnot, I guess you can’t exactly smile too much either. Half the time, I’m focusing on my steps and trying to do it properly and getting it done right.

If only I can just go back to the simplicity of a partner dance on the floor, where I knew what I was doing and she was enjoying herself and we were just both grooving to the music and interpreting music notes and lyrics with the movement of our bodies.

But for now, salsa performances to practise for and a possible routine to pick up by next year.

And for now NOW, I’ve gotta get some hip and knee replacements out the ward doors.