Iffy at best

So yeah, nothing has been happening here.

School ended, the campus is closed, and yet I'm working. But there's not much to do so I'm just sitting around the ITS room, updating my blog and reading the news. I don't have keys to anything cool so I'm basically just a warm body, here to answer phones that will never ring.

Swing dancing is fun. Soooo much fun. I really want to start doing it more. The club is doing a show on Tuesday and then they're going up to The Abby to do their routine so I get to dance on Tuesday and Wednesday! Woot!

There's going to be a cookie potluc on tuesday and I'm thinking of making chocolate covered creampuffs.

So yeah. That's about all that's going on here. I'm kinda looking for another job, but I really don't want to. It's a huge cut in pay, but at the same time, if I can survive, I'd have a LOT more free time to draw. Perfect.

Anyway, I'm gonna get back to my desk job now. Hope y'all are havin' fun!

--Slip--

I read this to one of my students and she said I should try to publish it. Here is my compromise.

I sat for the first few minutes at the side, waiting to jump into the whirlwind of sliding shoes, sweaty bodies and touching limbs. My mouth watered at the sight of a luscious brunette hamming up the finish of a spin. I felt like a child that is told he can only have one piece of candy from a large bowl. I tapped my feet, watching.

After a while, the music itself started to get under my skin. Not in a bad way, but rather it became a part of me. I found myself whistling and sliding down random hallways at work. It's a visceral experience, something that is absorbed, not imbibed. I always appreciated beauty, but I didn't consider myself an esthete until I went dancing. The ability of the human form to become art amazed me; but when that art was in full motion, gliding across a floor, spinning and jumping, experiencing it became sublime.

I couldn't stand sitting still anymore. I bounced to my feet. Rock step, kick-step, kick-step, and, kick-step, repeat ad infinitum. At one point I even closed my eyes. The lead singer was crooning about drinks and I understood. He screamed it, "Whiskey!" and I thought of how the Irish call whiskey the water of life. That's when she touched my shoulder.

The Brunette was wearing glasses that highlighted her eyes; her extended fingers beckoned and seduced me; and her smile parted slightly as she asked if I wanted to dance with a person. Oh dry wit! I tried to halt my knocking knees and spun out onto the dance floor, wishing it would never end.

--pleasemakeacomment---

So swing dancing officially rocks.

I got me a new pair o' dancin shoes and damn if they aren't the coolest things ever! They slide all over the place so I rarely have to pick up my feet anymore. My confidence level went WAY up last night and I really want to start dancing more.

The two problems I have now are remember the moves I already know while I'm dancing, and learning how to lead like I mean it.

Last week was the best week ever and it actually makes me wonder wheather there may actually be some kind of underlying 'thing' that sort of plays through the universe.

Anyway, last monday night I had a dream where this girl, let's call her **** asked me to dance after the lesson portion of the night and then she and I ended up dancing all night.

Now, to give you some perspective, **** is probly one of (if not the) best dancers there. She is amazingly light on her feet and lets you lead whatever you want. She is an amazing follow. I'd never danced with her and honestly was a bit intimidated by her skill. So this was definately a dream. As the dream continued, we went out for drinks and she ended up kissing me. I woke up smiling and laughing because it made me happy but I knew it was impossible. Why the hell would a great dancer like that want to dance with a beginner?

So I show up for the lesson at the beginning of the evening and she's there. Helping.

I have to add at this point that I have no 'game' whatsoever. Even if I had the guts to talk to someone I think is beautiful, the chances of me actually pulling it off with even the least bit of dignity are amazingly slim. So, I didn't talk to her.

After the lesson the dance started and I warmed up with a couple dances. I went over to the water dispenser thingy and got a drink. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was **** with a goofy grin on her face, asking me if I wanted to dance. I nearly passsed out.

I did a decent job but afterward I was kicking myself because I wasn't staying on beat for some reason...probly because my knees were knocking out of control.

She ended up asking me to dance twice that evening. Then I went home. It was great but I was convinced that she would never dance with me again, voluntarily, so I swore I would practice and try to get better.
----

Fast forward to last night.

She comes in around 9pm and then at about 10:30, asks me to dance, again. This time I was a little more prepared. I lost the beat once but easily pulled back into it again with a simple Charleston move. I got her to giggle and grin at me. Man, I'm such a sap.

Swing dancing rocks.

--huzay huzah---

Beauty of style and harmony and grace and good rhythm depend on Simplicity
--Plato

I've been thinking about beauty a lot lately. The kinds of things that make people beautiful. Not in the cliché way("Oh, we're all beautiful people on the inside!"), but in the more physical sense.

Is it really that there's simply animal attraction, pheremones that we smell and then create attraction? Or some universal undercurrent that tells us that the people in movies and on magazines are attractive? If either of those are the case, then how is love accounted for? (Does love even exist or is it simply a state of mind? <--question for another day)

I find so many different kinds of people attractive, depending on when I encounter them. Sometimes I can't stop looking at blond people, sometimes brunettes, it just depends on when I see them.

There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason for any of it. It all seems random to me.

So what about something more simple, clothes for example. I usually find the same things attractive, no matter what time. Of course, I have different clothes for different times of year, but I tend to wear the same kinds of clothes because I like them. I have one shirt that I find incredibly attractive and wish I could wear all the time. I don't think it will ever be unnattractive to me.

Now for something a little more complex, coffee. Coffee is something more akin to people because I like different kinds of coffee at different times, I have to be in the mood. This coffee comparison is actually a reasonably good one because I liken the sense of taste to the sense of sight. I don't enjoy the look of coffee per se, but I do enjoy letting it wash over my tongue, making all of my tastebuds tingle. And, in the same vein, I let like to watch beautiful people, letting the pleasantness of their form wash over my mind. People tend to think that there's a hint of sexual excitement that goes along with purely physical attraction to beauty, but I argue that, as with coffee, pure enjoyment can be found simply in experiencing the sensation.

Maybe the fact we find something beautiful is based more on our brains interpreting signals than anything rational (the taste of coffee vs. a sense of fashion). The array of things I find beautiful and attractive changes by the hour and I wouldn't have it any other way. Variety is the spice of life and I use it liberally.

--huzah--

Yeah, I started another blog that's all about politics. Right here.

I haven't been updating here because suddenly my personal life became all about teaching, working on computers and nothing else. It's really boring. But politics...that is always interesting!

Whee.

Have fun and be safe. I'll update here again in a bit.

--sumpah!---