Tropical Zen

The new digs are nice. My sublet is an older duplex, tall and skinny, typical SF in the Mission. Nice neighborhood, too; still a little grimy around the edges, just enough that it doesn’t feel fake. San Anselmo sometimes feels a bit too planned out, too little-boutique-shop/suburbia for my complete comfort, so it’s a nice change of pace. We still don’t have dance space during the day, though we’re working on it; we’ve been having lessons in socks at their place, and that’s a lot harder than it might seem. I keep sliding, in part because Beatrix is bigger than me; and today there was an unfortunate kicking incident that left all our toes really sore, something shoes would have softened. Ouch!

Beatrix and I still struggle to dance well or even comfortably together socially. We just don’t seem to, almost ever. I like her, and I want to be able to dance with her, but it’s just so difficult. We go out on the floor and I feel like an idiot, like I’ve never done this before in my life; so of course I don’t have the courage to ask anyone after that, because they’ve just seen my worst. It can’t *just* be me, because it doesn’t happen that way with 99% of everybody else I’ve danced with; but she’s a professional, so it must be me. I dunno. The way Michael dances, anyone could follow, and feel they were doing well; of course there are things he does that I don’t. (A whole list of them in fact, most of which I forget 20 minutes after the lesson ends. Argh.)

But all in all, it’s good. I’m learning so much, sometimes my brain is full. Soon we’re going to start filming the review part of the lesson, so I can look back later (after I’ve forgotten it all) and hopefully remember. It sure would be useful to be able to do that in shoes!