Enme

I've been going to salsa since I started my consulting job. I haven't been to a class in a few weeks because things have been so hectic with girl, work, and issues at home. But now since most of that has cooled down, I'm back at it.

Today wasn't exactly the most motivating day to go to salsa. But I needed a healthy outlet for all the frustration and stress. I didn't want to eat, slump in front of the TV, or drink.

Last time I was at salsa, I had that defining moment where I watched this couple dance and knew I want to train towards a dancer's body. And I wanted to get serious about salsa technique and spirit so I could move towards what I saw in that couple: raw energy poured into a sensual glass without the raunch.

Last Thursday, I felt a bit rusty but I soared through the 2 turns I struggled with before. When the music came on, I just knew I was in the right place. A content smile broke out over my face.

Then, we went to the second half of the class where we practice dancing with a partner. That's when I met that girl.

I can't remember her name now because it happened so quickly, especially the end where she raced out of the place the minute the class ended. But what I do remember is her gaze. Usually, in salsa classes, guys get to dance and meet a lot of girls; it comes with the territory which is most always starved for men. You meet the attractive ones, the ones who are doing it for fun, the ones who are trying to unleash the inner goddess and all that. Then, in between all those, you may meet one with whom you actually have chemistry. It happened once before at second lesson, if I remember correctly. It was a very sultry northern English woman in a red top and a steady gaze that just steamed with lust. I did consider talking to her but her son and friend were nearby.

Back to tonight. That girl looked young, perhaps early 20s. First time at class, nervous but absolutely beautiful. Milky-white skin, slightly reddish hair and this untouched innocence about her.

It started happening the first time we danced together. (Girls rotate since guys are always so few) Most girls would look away or give an awkward smile because of my steady gaze. But she didn't. She looked straight back and smiled. I smiled. Her eyes followed mine.

When that happens, salsa happens. I just led and with each new partner until she came back to me, I got better and more confident. I was leading.

The last time we danced, it was electric.

Perhaps I'll see her again at class. I was hoping I would ask her if she wanted to practice outside of class, I've been wanting a regular salsa partner.

Even if I never see her again, what a beautiful girl. And what memorable dancing.

Update: She wasn't there yesterday. I was disappointed. I don't regret though not talking to her or going any further because at the time, I was seeing the lady. I did the best I can at the time and I acted according to my conscience. Who knows, I may see her again.

Last night was great. I didn't dance with anyone during the partner sessions that I clicked with, but I worked up a sweat in the solo session. I even was able to follow along much more during the warmdown session.

My principle now is to hopefully dance with someone during partner session that I can dance and socialize with after the lesson is over. That didn't happen last night. But because I don't want to keep on walking out every week after the lesson, I decided to advertise for a regular salsa partner on Facebook and Gumtree. I've had one reply so far.

Should that not work, I'm just going to stay and work up the courage to talk to people and dance anyway.

Beautiful girl, I hope I get to dance with you again. 

Three weeks ago, I was in the process of making a music video in collaboration with my friend Zethu, who owns and runs Mash Entertainment. The project was sprung on me one Saturday morning, overpowering me like a whirlwind. And for the duration of the time I worked on it, it was like that. For 7 days straight, I was coming home around or midnight. As we went along, we somehow meet and take people with us on the journey, people who we meet without planning or knowledge, and they end up being able to push us along on the path. I'll update this part soon with a more involved and detailed post on the Flashes blog.

I'd been marauding for meaning lately and I found it in that video. Every time I went out with Siza and Zethu (producer and artist manager, respectively), I worked walking towards the quiet eye of the whirlwind where I could see pictures and put together the shots for the video. It was a blissful state. People could tell too.

It was with great regret and sadness I had to cancel the production 3 hours before call-time due to the rapper lacking professionality and showing signs of not being able to commit. I felt a part of me sighing. The next day, I went and saw the rapper, stipulating that without the signed contract from his guardians, there'd be no music video.

The guardians didn't sign. I didn't make the video. For now, until Mash Entertainment organizes the money lost in the production and gets immovable commitment from the rapper, it's postponed indefinitely.

The last 4 days spent on this project forced to the surface months of tension and bitterness with my family.

The zenith was on the Tuesday night, where I erupted in untainted rage onto my mother. My voice grew louder and hoarser, my heart thumped faster, and words came shooting out of my mouth. For brief moments, my mind shoved images into my eyes. July 2006 in Oxford, that dark evening where I lost control of my mind everything for a few hours. And how a cathartic phone conversation with a clergy member brought me back.

When the rage subsided, I went outside to sit in my car to deal with the next layer of explosion, that of bitter tears. I was already late for Spanish group at the ex's house and I wanted to drive away from this house. I couldn't. All I could do was almost wail. I had reached the end with them and all I could do now was to lament.

I did end up going and it was a good evening. For the next 2 or 3 days, there was more screaming, tennis matches played with words, and wounds opened. I resolved to move out and after quite a while of not feeling confident, more reconciliatory conversations with mother and father, I resolved to stay.

My sister never apologized. My mom did. And I felt she meant it. She did it in her own way and I accepted that for once. Things are civil with my sister and I don't envision any salvaging talk or discussion. Like most other things with her, it will be swept under the rug.

Things are better with the family. They both realized they have to change how the relationship is lived out with me. And I have realized the changes I need to concede in order to make this work. I will move out at some point; this isn't just the right time.