drift

The dancing instruction I hate the most is "don't _____ until/unless I tell you to."

No shit. You lead a move and I follow it. So since I _____ed, OBVIOUSLY it's because I thought you were leading it. I'm totally willing to own to making a mistake, but it's a different mistake. It's "I misread that signal," not "I have no idea how social dancing works." Fuck you.

But, besides for that, salsa last night was a lot of fun. I still don't like the music as much, but I'm starting to feel less like a swing-girl putting up with salsa because it's the best she can get, and doing a clumsy job at it, and more like someone who wants to learn something new. Next time, I bring my character shoes.

The theme this summer seems to be paradigm shifting. I feel like I'm stretching, and it's not comfortable, and it's weird, but it will settle eventually.

I'm going to be the kind of girl who knows her way around heavy machinery. Who has metal chips in the soles of her shoes.

I'm slowly watching as old habits stop functioning, and social groups drift. Or, they stay the same, and I am slowly drifting. For the last year, I've been trying to hold on to the life I had, and it isn't working. I like the Iowa Underground Art Scenesters. But I'm not one of them. I'm realizing that I need to stretch out, and call people I don't usually call. I need to make my place here.