This is, without a doubt, one of the greatest teams in the world.
Photo by Georgia National Guard (flickr)
I admit that being a team player is a weakness of mine. I’m a very independent person that’s always preferred working alone. My reasoning is selfish: If I screw up, I can only blame myself. There’s also the mantra “If you want to get something done, you have to do it yourself.” Unsurprisingly, being a part of Kañanazo has been challenging. My desire to be a leader in the dance-o-sphere compounds it. Yet, practicing this routine given to us by bachata champions has given me a better idea of what it is to be a teammate.
I never liked PE. We had to run laps which increased as the semester progressed. I “excused” myself more than once to the restroom to wait out the running. We never played a specific sport, more like quirky games. That meant more running, not to mention dexterity I had yet to develop. An MVP I was not. Had there been an option to choose team members, I would’ve been one of the last ones. Hmph, if this was what an athlete was, I wanted no part of it. The story was identical for middle school and most of high school. I made myself run cross-country for three years during that period. Whether I legitimately wanted to love it or subconsciously hated myself is an unsolved myself. I only recently discovered that a huge part of consistent exercise was finding one’s niche.
“Grr! Ugh!” More noises of frustration slipped through my lips as I continued my rumba walks. These walks, like its Cuban motion counterpart, were something I had repeated meticulously whenever I had the chance. Up and down the long walls every practice. I thought it had gotten better, but DP’s constant corrections increased my doubts. A little adjustment there. A sound indicating erroneous movement. A tweak of my standing leg. Where in bleep had all the progress gone?! I knew I could never reach perfection, but did it have to seem so Sisyphean? I was crying internally from exasperation. To make matters worse, those tears were threatening to spill outwardly. (I hate crying in front of people.) DP noticed and took me aside for a pep talk.
I’m not fond of tug-o-war. To clarify, watching people is fine, but don’t get me involved. The fall semester of my senior year of college I decided to participate. It was freshmen versus everyone else. The competition is always rigged to make the newbies wear their dorky beanies for an extra week. My freshman year, they tethered golf carts to the other side and lightly tapped the gas.
Anyway, I decided to join the “fun” because it was my last year. Too bad I decided to wear flip-flops that day. Noticing my poor choice of footwear, I was at a loss. “Just take ’em off,” said the burly male student behind me. Sure, it’d help me plant my feet better. The flip-flops came off, and the tug-o-war began. We won with some mighty tugging, unremarkable. What was remarkable was the fact I didn’t feel the stinging and burning from the fire ants that covered my left foot until after the event concluded. I had stepped in their hill as I was tugging. I had at least seven bites, and my foot soon swelled to the point where I couldn’t where my left shoe properly. I still have the scars, but they’ve faded significantly. No more tug-o-war for me!
I’ve been dancing for almost four years now, so little frightens me. Well, one thing still scares me: coaching. Yep, I’m going to have my first coaching lesson on June 18th. It may be hard to believe that I haven’t had a single coach put me through my paces, but there was a valid reason.
Authoress’ Note: I haven’t updated recently. Finals are in a couple of weeks, and it’s been keeping me busy. The writer’s block hasn’t been helping either.
I’m dissatisfied with my dancing. It’s only in one sense. As a student, I am very pleased with my progress. Maybe you’ll see a post about my participation in a major, out-of-state competition. Who knows? Unfortunately, the social aspect of it hasn’t been going as well.
photo by Dance Photographer – Brendan Lally (flickr)
I’m back, my friends. I was travelling the Caribbean on a week-long cruise during the break, and it was wonderful. There’s nothing like walking under sunny skies while listening to the Afro-Cuban beat of the island’s music.
I’m geared for Team Match on March 29th, (I wasn’t going to participate because Tommy was gone. When he returned, I changed my mind. I want to dance with him as much as possible before he leaves.) I’m very, very excited for my Tango Argentino routine. It’ll test my technique, muscle memory, musicality, following, and most of all, acting.
Disclaimer: Just in case it wasn’t obvious, I don’t own any of the links at the end of this post. __ … but I’ve finally done it! That’s right. I’ve finally gotten both my left and right splits. Hooray!!! Here’s … Continue reading →