I did not get into the advanced class, although the reasons were not entirely clear. Obviously, there are still hoops to jump through, but she did not specify which hoops, exactly, I need. And part of me wants to force the issue, to get really good but still not compete, to show them See look I've been certified on the bronze and silver syllabus, with the same instructors that you use, why do I need to dance in competitions to take lessons when I pay for them and dance at the same level? But part of me wants to compete, now. Which is why I don't want to compete.
Because, you might have noticed, I'm really fucking competitive.
Really. Fucking. Competitive.
I don't want to compete, I want to win. I want to win spectacularly. I don't want to work my way up, I want to train in secret and start at the top. I want to be The Black Stallion. I want to be Susan Boyle. There are times, lots of times, when I want a good game. When I want an opponent I'm not sure I can beat, an opponent who will beat me three times out of five. But those are friendly competitions, with friends. This is different. This isn't about the fun of playing, this is about showing off, showing people up. This is about proving something to the cool kids, the beautiful girls, they are all so goddamn beautiful.
And that's why I don't think I should compete. Because I love to dance, I love it so much, and I'm afraid I'll forget.
(This was going to be a three-part, numbered, update. About the dance lessons, and the boots, and being someone worth staying for. The boots are here. I am not sure how I feel about them now that they're real. And he is still making good decisions, ones that don't depend on me, but his words were worrisome and made me afraid. That's all.)
p.s. To the double-space-after-a-full-stop-haters. To the ones who say, "It breaks up the flow of the writing to add the double space," and the ones who say, "It makes the reader pause when there's a large blank space." I say, yes. That's the point.